Fall River
by kwater
Summary: It was in that moment that Dean understood just what it meant to be a hunter.' Dean works to prove a girl's innocence and learns something life altering about himself.
1. Chapter 1

Author's Chapter Notes:

I want to send a thank you out to Bambers, for beta'ing this one.

"Beth, honey, can you run out to the car and grab my purse?" Karen Walsh called from the dining room. After hearing no response, she again called out to her fifteen-year-old daughter. "Honey, grab my purse. I'm running late, I was supposed to be at the shop an hour ago."

As her daughter continued to ignore her plea, Karen abandoned the casserole she was preparing and set out to find her. As she walked into the living room, she saw her daughter. Lying on the couch, her toes tapping, her eyes closed, a pair of headphones settled upon her ears.

Smiling, Karen approached her. As she reached her side, she gently tapped a finger on Beth's jean encased leg.

Beth's scream, was echoed an instant later by her mother's. On her feet, in an instant, the teen's gaze darted warily about the room as if she was searching for something.

Karen stared at her daughter in surprise. "Honey, are you alright?" she asked, though it was obvious by her daughter's too pale face and her rapid breathing, she was far from all right.

Beth dropped back onto the couch, clutching her arms. "I'm fine, you just startled me, what's up?" she asked, careful to avoid her mother's sharp gaze.

Karen not only heard the lie in her daughter's voice, she could see it on her face.

Beth had always been their golden child. Her tanned skin and red gold hair set off the green in her eyes. Tall, slender, and athletic, she drew attention everywhere she went. Smart, funny, and outgoing, she cruised through life seemingly wrapping everyone she met around her little finger. It was as if she'd been touched by an angel, until now.

Lately, Karen had watched as a new Beth had begun to surface. This Beth was a pale imitation of the girl Karen knew. Always tired, she now spent hours staring into space. This Beth had circles under her eyes and seemed to avoid making eye contact. And what bothered Karen the most, was that she now seemed to have closed herself off from everyone, friends and family alike were now kept at a distance.

It had all started with the nightmares, they were disturbing to say the least. They'd begun about a month ago. The first night Beth had woken them, telling them someone had been in her room. A thorough search of the house had turned up nothing, and yet Beth had been insistent. So much so, Bill had notified the sheriff the next day, just incase she hadn't imagined it. The following weeks, the dreams had come more and more frequently, finally culminating in a spate of sleepwalking.

Every morning now, it was unsurprising for them to wake up and find their fifteen-year-old daughter asleep on the floor, her head cradled in her arms, unsurprising, but still unsettling. Karen had already taken her to the family doctor, fearing that the dreams were being caused by a physical ailment, so far nothing had indicated that was the case.

Every time Karen tried to question Beth, she was shut down. Beth had become an expert at deflecting questions, and changing subjects. Or, if left with no other recourse she bluntly refused to discuss it, claiming, most commonly, that she didn't remember.

"Mom, earth to Mom."

Karen was pulled back to the present by the sound of annoyance in her daughter's voice. "Sorry, Honey, I didn't mean to startle you, I just needed my purse."

Beth nodded. "Sure, Mom, I'll get it."

Karen watched as Beth left the room, she couldn't help but notice her daughters slumped posture, it was as if she carried the weight of the world on her slim shoulders.

888

Beth awoke with a start. She lay there in her bed, unwilling to open her eyes. It was back, Beth knew it. She could feel it standing beside her, one shadowy hand reaching out to touch her cheek, it's fetid breath caressing her skin. Beth shrank back against the pillow, trying to avoid the hand that was now stroking her cheek.

It was just a dream, it was just a dream, this was the litany she had chanted each night for the past month. It never worked, after all, Beth knew she was awake, telling herself something different wouldn't change that fact.

Unable to remain blind, she opened her eyes to the now familiar sight of two, black, fathomless, orbs only inches from her own face. Swallowing her scream, she held herself still. Her only movement was to reach one trembling hand toward her nightstand. Grasping the glasses that laid there, she drew her hand back and quickly put them on.

As the world once again, regained it's focus, she breathed a sigh of relief to see that she was once again alone. Unable to shake off the nightmare, she pulled the blankets up under her chin, and remained vigilant for the rest of the night.

888

**_One Year Later_**

"Pull Over, Dean."

"Nah, I'm good, Dad. I can go for a while yet."

"Now," John answered his tone brooking no argument. "We're too close to Fall River. It wouldn't do for anyone to see you driving, especially since you're not sixteen yet." John continued, his words and wry grin taking the sting out of his order.

Dean knew his father was right. At fifteen, he'd been driving for over a year. He had a license, claiming he was of legal age, but it didn't match up with his school records. So, for at least another four months he needed to be careful. Pulling into a gas station, he maneuvered the big black car to an empty pump. Shutting off the engine, he turned in his seat and lightly tapped his brother's leg.

"Wake up, Sammy."

Sam's mumbled, "We here," paid testament to just how tired the young man was. Two days of sleeping in a car had left the eleven-year-old miserable and stiff.

"Move it, boys. I wanna be at Fall River in an hour. You've got ten minutes to grab a bite, and hit the head. Go," John ordered as he slid out of the car. Moving to the bumper, John opened the gas cap and within minutes, he was pumping gas.

Climbing out of the car, Dean opened the rear door for Sam. His baby brother had shot up this past year, trading in his baby fat for a couple of extra inches. His added height now made it near impossible for the kid to stretch out in the back seat.

Dean cuffed Sam lightly on the shoulder. "Let's go Tiger, time's wasting."

The two brothers made their way into the dimly lit store, Dean heading for the coffee machine and Sam toward the array of boxed bake goods.

Dean quickly fixed two coffees and headed for the drink cooler. Choosing a bottle of orange juice, he met Sam at the register. Pulling out his wallet, Dean fished out his last ten-dollar bill and paid for the Winchesters breakfast.

As they left the store, Dean handed one of the coffees to his father.

"I got shotgun," Dean said as he moved toward the front seat.

Sam's expression turned stubborn, he crossed his arms and said, "It's my turn. You got to sit upfront last."

"That's a load of crap and you know it. You rode up front for over two hundred miles. I only drove for about fifty, it's still my turn."

"It's not fair, we're not taking turns by the mile, it's every time we stop."

"Boys, get in the car," John called, out as he moved to take the driver's seat.

Dean opened the door to the passenger seat, determined to ignore Sam's whining.

"Dad, Dean's not sharing," Sam yelled, his voice reaching near glass shattering octaves.

Dean's face reddened in anger as he slammed the door shut and moved to open the rear door. Dropping onto the backseat, he pulled his walkman out of his pocket and settled back in the seat.

"Dude, stop giving you brother a hard time," John said, as he waited for Sam to settle himself in the front seat.

Dean nodded at his Dad, and fitted his headphones to his ears. Cranking the volume as loud as it would go, Dean slumped down into his seat, the sounds of Soundgarden's 'Black Hole Sun' washing over him.

888

Dean was tired. Tired of traveling, of living out of the trunk of the car, of staying in motels with cockroaches the size of mice and rats the size of gophers. He was tired of being in the car, driving from nameless town to nameless town, tired of take-out food and sharing a bed with Sam.

Kids his age were supposed to spend their summers, raising hell. Sleeping in late, going to the movies, and ragging on their friends, not digging up dead bodies in 100 degree weather. Not patching up their father's injuries or being patched up in return.

Not him though, no he'd gotten his first real taste of what a hunter's life was like. And after three months, he could honestly say he'd hated it.

His father, having deemed that Sam was finally old enough, had packed up the boys and their few belongings and had hit the road. His intention to train his sons and in turn track down and destroy as many evil beings as possible.

At first, it had been all Dean could do to contain his excitement. After all, his past summers had been spent playing babysitter to Sam, at the homes of his father's friends. Watching as his father drove off, leaving them behind, intent on his next hunt.

The idea of a road trip, hunting evil, training, and spending time with his father had overroad any nagging doubts. At least until he had spent his first night, knee deep in mud digging up the grave of a Texas woman. Though alive she had probably been very nice, in her death she had taken up the unfortunate habit of strangling people. That was the night he'd realized it wasn't all fun and glamour.

Now, well now he wanted nothing more than to settle down. To fall into a routine again, one that included his own bed, clean sheets and a full night's sleep.

Then there was Sammy, he'd faired even worse than Dean. Most hunts had found him taking on the more menial jobs, Shoveling graves, laying salt lines and reading incantations.

Sam had been willing, if not particularly enthusiastic, to help, unfortunately for Dean at those times it always fell to him to watch out for Sam. Something that was easier said than done. After all Sammy seemed to be a magnet for supernatural trouble.

Yeah, Dean was tired. As he closed his eyes, his one thought before slipping off to sleep, was a hope that this time, they would get to stay for a bit. At least long enough for him and Sam to rest.

Chapter End Notes:

Hey thanks for reading, and I hope you enjoy the ride. As always reviews are what keep me going, so please let me know what you thought. - K


	2. Chapter 2

Author's Chapter Notes:

Okay guys here it goes, hope you enjoy.. thanks as always for reading and a special thank you to bambers for taking the time to beta...K

"Come on, Sam, I said we'd get pizza, not spend four hours staking out the local book store." Dean found it hard to believe, after the hour Sam had spent perusing the bookshop earlier this week, he wanted to go in again.

"Dean, please, I just want to see what's new," Sam said, leaning against the bookshop window.

Dean couldn't help but smile, as his brother placed his forehead against the glass.

The Winchesters had been living in Fall River for nearly three weeks now. So far, Dean's wish to settle down seemed to have come true, at least for the moment.

His father had moved them to Fall River following a lead regarding the thing that had killed their mother. So far, it'd been a bust, but John wasn't ready to give up yet. He'd even indicated he might enroll them in school here. After all, there were only two weeks until summer vacation ended.

That was fine as far as Dean was concerned. After all, the town seemed all right and the apartment actually had two bedrooms. A plus for Dean and Sam who were often regulated to a sofa bed in many of the places they had stayed.

"Fine, Sam, but food first. If I'm gonna stand around a bookstore watching you drool, I'd rather do it on a full stomach."

At Sam's utter look of joy, Dean couldn't help, but reach out and ruffle Sam's shaggy head. "Come on, before I change my mind."

888

Sam rolled his eyes, as Dean reached out to ruffle his hair. No matter how many times he'd told Dean to stop, his brother kept doing it. "Dean, I told you, I'm not a kid anymore."

"And I told you, Sammy. You'll always be a kid to me," Dean said, reaching out to whack Sam on the head.

Sam ducked at the last minute avoiding the blow. "Someday, I'm going to be taller than you and then you won't be able to treat me like a kid."

Sam couldn't contain his own smile at Dean's snort. Following his brother down the sidewalk, he couldn't help but notice how relaxed Dean seemed since Dad had mentioned settling down for a while.

The summer had been a hard one, living on the road and hunting with his father had sounded like fun at first. Living out of the Impala, watching day in and day out as Dean and his father became bruised and battered, had quickly soured Sam on the idea. Unable to do much in the way of hunting, Sam had quickly learned to apply himself to research. After all, in the world of the supernatural, research was nearly as important as the hunting itself.

The few times, despite Dean's protests, his father had allowed him to join a hunt had left Sam feeling scared and lost. Sam hated feeling that way, especially when Dean insisted, despite their father's orders, on putting himself between Sam and danger.

Sam was called back to the present by his brother's exasperated voice, "Dude, I'm starving."

Sam couldn't help but laugh at his brother's impatience.

888

Dean leaned back and closed his eyes for a minute. "Man, that was good."

"There's one piece left, Dean, you can have it."

Dean stared at the piece for a moment, tempted to take it. Instead, he shook his head and said, "Naw, we'll take it home, Sammy. You can have it for breakfast."

"Can I? Dad never lets us have pizza for breakfast." Sam sat in his seat, happily downing the last few bites of his slice.

Their father had been gone for over four days now. Dean knew just how tight things would get if he didn't return soon. This 'dinner' had taken the last of Dean's cash, and there was next to nothing left in the house to eat. "Well, Dad left me in charge, so it's pizza for breakfast."

"What about you? I finished the last of the cereal this morning."

Dean already knew the cereal, a staple in the Winchester family, was gone. When he'd woken up and noticed that the box was nearly empty, he'd been quick to tell Sam that he'd already eaten.

Not wanting his brother to realize just how bad things were, Dean deflected Sam's question. "So how bout we head over to the book store now?"

Sam distracted by the lure of the bookstore began chatting a mile a minute. He managed to keep up an endless stream of chatter as they gathered their Styrofoam box and paid their check. He barely drew a breath as they left the pizza shop and made their way to the bookstore.

Sam pizza in hand darted forward toward the already open door as soon as they neared. Dean sensing more than seeing movement reached out just in time and grabbed the young boy by the scruff of his neck.

Just then, a woman came out carrying a large cardboard box. The box was either huge or the woman was tiny, either way, she was obviously unable to see over it. After watching for a moment, Dean decided it was a bit of both, standing next to him the woman would barely reach his chin. As she struggled, Dean let go of Sam and quickly reached out, steadying the box.

A muffled voice called out, "Thank you."

"No problem, can I help you?" Dean asked, moving to take the box.

"Ah, I'd appreciate it. It's heavier than I'd expected." The owner of the box smiled up at Dean, her dark brown eyes shining with kindness.

As he settled the box firmly in his arms, Dean nodded. "No problem, where's it go?"

"Oh, of course, here I am babbling and that box is probably getting heavier and heavier." The woman continued to stare at Dean, her smile infecting the younger man.

Unable to hold back his own grin, Dean again juggled the box a bit. "So, where's it going?"

This time the woman blushed. "I'm sorry, I don't know what's wrong with me. If you could just load it into the van, I'd appreciate it." She pointed toward a red mini-van parked at the curb in front of the stool.

As Dean lowered the box, he could hear the woman now talking to Sam. Dean felt his earlier amusement fade away. It never failed, he and Sam always seemed to garner the sympathy of women. It was as if they were marked as being motherless.

However, Dean knew that their kindness was often replaced by skepticism, as he wove a web of lies in response to their endless questions. Maybe, thought Dean all women had some type of built in bullshit detector.

"Is that your older brother? I've seen you two in here a lot lately," The brown haired shop owner asked.

Dean could hear the caution in Sam's voice as he answered, "Yeah, we're new in town. It's a great store."

Dean turned from the car in time to see the woman wipe a hand across the corner of her eye. "It was my brother's. I've kinda inherited it," She said, her eyes seeming to loose some of their brightness.

"Well, there you go." Dean moved over to stand next to his brother.

The woman's eyes seemed to take in every aspect of the boy's world-wear countenance.

Dean knew that look and from the way Sam pressed himself against his side, he knew his brother was familiar with it as well.

Tapping a finger against her chin, she finally said, "My name's Caroline, but everyone calls me, Caro." She held her hand out to the boys, clearly expecting them to shake it.

Dean reached out, his larger hand engulfing her smaller one. "My name's Dean, and this is my brother Sam."

"Dean and Sam, were you boys coming inside? I know how much you love to browse, Sam." Her eyes were open and wide, no hint of censure in her tone.

"I uh, I mean..." Sam stuttered.

"Well, it's just, I've got about five more boxes equal to that one in size. I thought maybe your brother might be willing to help me out, while you take a look around."

Sam and Dean exchanged glances. Dean couldn't ignore the plea in his little brother's wide green eyes. Knowing that he was well and truly caught, Dean replied, "Sure."

Fifteen minutes later, Dean wiped a hand across his forehead and headed back into the cool dark shop. Dean raised a brow in surprise; he could hear Sam chattering away to the bookshop owner. Sammy rarely talked to strangers, though teachers, and now it seemed bookshop owners, were the exception.

"Dean got it for me for my birthday. I think it was the best..." Sam's voice trailed off as he saw Dean enter the shop.

Dean offered Sam a smile that immediately banished Sam's worried frown. "Hey, Kiddo, you get enough of this place yet?"

Sam smiled, his face alight with pleasure. "Yeah, Dean, I'm ready."

"I'd like to give you something, Dean, for helping me out," Caroline offered.

Dean knew just how much the money would come in handy. Even just a few dollars would make the difference between merely feeling hunger pains when his Dad finally returned or being forced to find other means to feed himself. However, a Winchester never took charity, as nicely as Caro had offered it was obviously charity.

"No thanks, Ma'am. I was glad to help."

Caroline seemed to struggle with herself for a moment, finally she nodded. "Alright, well I thank you. Sam, wait just a minute, I have something for you." Turning away, Caroline headed for the register. A moment later, she returned, an obviously worn book in her hand. "Here, Sam, you can keep this. I think you'll enjoy reading it."

Turning to Dean, she stared at him for a moment as if waiting to see what he would say. And really, if he was honest he'd have to admit he'd never make Sam give the book back. His brother was already thumbing eagerly through the well-worn pages. In the end, Dean simply nodded his thanks, turning to leave he called out, "Let's go Sam."

888

Beth hurried down the corridor, drawn forward by the sound of voices. As she turned the corner, she saw them.

There was Teddy, his back pressed against the bright, orange lockers. His books were scattered at his feet. Even from a distance, she could see the tears of fear streaming down his cheeks.

Her temper ever close to the surface these days, exploded. She dropped her backpack and said, "Leave him alone, Brett."

Long, angry strides carried her through the crowd of boys. She didn't stop until she was inches from Brett. "He's done nothing to you. Leave him alone."

Brett stepped forward, trying to use his size to intimidate Beth. "He stepped on my foot."

Beth rolled her eyes and snorted. "Oh well, by all means, gang up on him and make him cry. After all five on one is what you do best."

Brett took another step forward; reaching out with one hand, he caressed Beth's cheek. "What is it Lizzie. You'd rather we gang up on you. You lonely for some attention?"

Beth drew herself up and slapped Brett's face with all the strength she could muster. "Do you really want to piss me off, Brett?"

At the open threat in her words, the boys behind Brett backed off, their eyes suddenly focused on anything but the scene before them.

Brett touched a hand to his face, and took several steps back from Beth. "We were just kidding around. Teddy there he knows we were just kidding."

Beth sneered. "Yeah, right. Just keep in mind why they call me Lizzie." With these words, she turned away, concentrating on gathering up the books on the ground. As she stood, she noticed a sandy haired boy holding her backpack, standing several feet away. From the expression on his face, she had no doubt he'd interfere in a moment if it seemed as if she needed help.

Handing Teddy his books, she admonished, "Teddy, next time something like this happens. Go to a classroom. Tell someone, those boys shouldn't treat you like that."

The young boy stammered his gaze focused on the books he now held in his hands. "Brett's my friend."

Beth shook her head and patted the younger boy on the shoulder. "No, Teddy. Brett's not your friend, he's a jerk. Friends don't make friends cry."

"Okay, Beth, I'll tell, I promise."

"Good, Ted, now get to class. Tell Mrs. Jenkins what happened. She'll understand."

As Ted turned to head down the hall, Beth turned toward the boy. Holding her hand out, she waited for him to hand her the bag.

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Dean pulled the bag back a bit, keeping it just out of reach. "You know you should have taken your own advice and called for a teacher."

Beth again reached for the bag, glaring at Dean when he kept it just out of reach.

"Listen, skip the lecture, and just give me my bag back."

Dean studied her for a minute more. He'd gotten to school late, again, and had been in the process of hurrying to his first class when he'd heard the exchange. Not willing to stand by and allow the group of boys to continue terrorizing the boy, he'd been about to step in.

Then she'd show up, in a blaze of white hot anger. So surprised by her determination to protect the boy, he'd stopped where he stood and admired her technique. That is until the one she'd called Brett had threatened her. That's when he'd moved forward, his every intention to get involved.

He'd again stopped as the sound of a wicked slap rang out. As the bullies turned tail and skittered away, he couldn't help but be impressed with the girl's, show of bravery.

Dean held out the bag, grinning. "That's some arm you've got there. Remind me to never piss you off." Dean's face turned serious when she didn't respond, instead she took her bag and headed off down the hall.

Dean watched her walk away, unsure of what he'd said to anger her. He was about to turn and head for class when she called over her shoulder.

"You coming or not."

Class forgotten, Dean grinned and sprinted down the hall, stopping just as he reached her side.

"So, what class are you late for?" the girl asked, her eyes focused ahead of her.

Dean was surprised by the question. "Treewhig, he's got it out for me. I've been late everyday this week." Dean couldn't help but lose his train of thought when the girl's green eyes focused on him.

"Ugh, Treewhig. Come on, hurry up, the later we are the harder it'll be." The girl lengthened her stride until she was nearly trotting.

Finally, they faced the door, panting a bit. The girl opened the door and walked straight to where Dean's teacher stood facing the class. Not bothering to lower her voice, she said, "I wanted to let you know that," here she turned toward Dean.

"Dean," Dean supplied his own name, trying not to seem surprised by anything she said.

Raising one eyebrow, she said, "Dean, is late because he helped me change a flat tire."

She stood, her back straight, her gaze focused on the man before her. Dean smothered a grin as he watched the decidedly shorter Treewhig bristle at the girls' manner. Dean felt little sympathy as the man had repeatedly threatened to toss him out of class for being late.

"As I've told, Mr. Winchester, I won't accept his excuses. He's been late every day this week, I didn't accept his story about getting his brother to school, and I'm not about to buy your supposed story about a flat tire. As I explained to, Winchester, he's going to have to serve detention for the rest of the week for being late yet again." Treewhig crossed his arms smiling smugly at the girl.

She actually smiled. "Huh, well I'd really hoped you'd be more understanding, after all, it's my fault he was late." With these words, she turned and headed for the door. As she did, she called over her shoulder, "I'd really hoped we could handle this here. I guess it'll just have to be dealt with later."

Dean watched as Treewhig's face whitened, stumbling over his words, he practically shoved Dean toward his desk. "No need to discuss it, if you say he helped you out with a tire then I'm sure he did. I'll let it go this time. You can get to class now."

"Thanks, Mr. Treewhig, for being so understanding." Without so much as a glance at Dean, she walked out.

Dean watched as the door closed, his mind focused on a pair of green eyes, rather than algebra.


	3. Chapter 3

Dean stood at the kitchen sink later that night, his thoughts drifting to the ginger haired girl he'd met earlier. As he finished washing the last of the dishes, he called to his brother more out of habit than necessity, "You need any help, Sam?"

Sam never lifted his head from his homework spread out before him. "I've got a form I need signed. Something about a vision test."

"Leave Dad be, I'll sign it."

"I rue the day I taught you how to forge my signature, Kiddo. Let me see the form, Sam." Dean watched as his father walked into kitchen, took a seat at the table, and held out his hand for the form.

To say his father looked tired was the understatement of the year. Eyes that were once a clear and true brown were now hollowed out with fatigue and something darker. His eyes once so familiar to Dean had changed over the past eleven years. Now the darkness never left them, not even the sight of his children ever completely erased the shadows.

They had been in Fall River for nearly six weeks now, and the lead his father had been searching for had yet to materialize. His Dad had refused to give up though, so in the mean time he'd found a job working maintenance for the town road crew. The job suited him. He was able to make his own schedule and the pay was decent. As long as the equipment was ready to go when needed, his time was his own. As John had access to the garage after hours and preferred to work at night, Dean often went with him. It was there that Dean had begun to hone his own skills on the Impala, his wish was that some day the sleek black car would be his.

"Dean, Dude, come on man, look alive."

Dean snapped his attention back to his father once more. Straightening a bit under his father's direct gaze, Dean answered, "Yes, Sir?"

"I've got a line on Markenson, I think I finally tracked the bastard down. I don't expect to be gone longer than the weekend, but..." John's voice trailed off.

"I got it, I can handle things around here," Dean supplied.

"I know you can, Son." John laid the unsigned form back on the table. As he stood, he gave his sons a tired smile. "I'm gonna research a bit."

"Dad?" Sam piped up, his eyes focused on the pencil he held in his hands.

John turned back, surprise on his face at Sam's obvious unease. "What, Kiddo, I have work to do."

Sam glanced quickly at Dean, before again giving the pencil in his hand his full attention.

"Spit it out, Sam," John ordered, his voice showing his impatience.

"It's just last time you left, you were gone longer than you expected," Sam said, his words tumbling over themselves in his haste to get them said.

"It happens, Sam, you know the work is important. Sometimes it takes longer than I expect." At his father's words, Sam seemed to stiffen.

Meeting his father's gaze for the first time, Sam blurted out, "We ran out of money. Dean..." Here Sam shot a quick glance at Dean. Unfortunately, Dean's frown seemed to do nothing but spur him on, "Well, he took care of it, but still."

Dean winced at his brother's words. After his father's last hunt, he wasn't surprised to see Sam bringing this up. Dean could only hide the dwindling money and food problem for so long. The kid was young, not stupid.

"That true, Dean, did you use up all the money I left?" John's direct gaze questioned his son.

Dean stepped next to Sam and laid a hand on his brother's shoulder. He could feel the tension that gripped the younger boy. Lately, Sam had begun questioning their father more and more. He also knew at the moment, his kid brother was taking exception to their father's choice of words.

"We were fine, Sam had plenty to eat." Dean squeezed Sam's shoulder, warning his brother to remain quiet.

The Winchesters lived hand to mouth. John worked, but only between juggling hunts, and looking for the thing that killed their mom, as a whole money came last. Dean knew that paying jobs were rare, he didn't want to be a burden on his father anymore than he had to. After all, Dean would manage he always did.

John stared hard at his oldest son for a moment, seeming to weigh Dean's statement. Finally, he nodded. "I'll leave some extra cash in my nightstand drawer. But I'm telling you now, Dean, it's for emergencies only, not luxuries." As John turned to leave the room, he called over his shoulder, "And pizza is not an emergency."

As soon as their father left the room, both boys broke out in an angry tirade of words. Dean's heated, "Why'd you tell him we ran out of money, you know there's none to spare."

Was overlapped by Sam's equally upset, "You didn't eat for over a day, that's an emergency." As their angry words overlapped, both brothers stopped for a moment.

Sam once again looked down at his pencil. "It's not right, Dean."

Dean nodded, his eyes focused on his brother's shaggy head. "I'm fine, Sam, we just have to be more careful. Dad's got enough to deal with."

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Sam watched as his brother bent over the form that lay on the table, and carefully signed their father's name. Then Dean nudged Sam's shoulder and gave him a small smile before turning back toward the sink. Sam was finding it harder and harder to brush off his father's somewhat callous attitude, especially when it involved Dean. More often than not, John treated Dean like a soldier, barking out orders and charging him with more responsibilities.

Money was tight. Dean had explained, living in Massachusetts had its drawbacks. Primarily, that everything cost more than what they were used to. Why Dean was willing to take the blame for something he had no control over was beyond Sam.

"Stop looking so glum, Sammy. How's school going?" Dean asked, glancing over his shoulder.

Sam watched Dean for a moment, he knew from experience if he pushed again, Dean would shut down. His brother, though willing to jump to Sam's defense refused to do the same for himself. Giving in to Dean's unspoken plea, he answered, "Cool, today Mrs. Mercer gave a new assignment. We're supposed to write a research paper on something of interest here in town."

"That's cool, should be a breeze for you, Geek Boy." Dean finished the dishes and turned to his brother, giving him his full attention. "So, what's your subject?"

888

Caroline Walsh opened the front door, and dropped her keys on the small table that stood beside the entry. As she kicked off her sneakers, she called out, "Beth, you here, Sweetie?"

"Yeah, Caro, I'm here," her niece replied from the kitchen.

Caroline walked into the kitchen to find her sixteen-year-old niece, browning hamburger in a pan on the stove. Caroline couldn't help but laugh. "Tacos again, you're killing me here, kid."

Beth turned and smiled. "Hey, it's my turn to make dinner and I picked..."

"Tacos, I know," Caroline finished for her. The sight of Beth's smile, helped ease the constant ache that had taken up residence in Caroline's chest. It had been seven months, since Caroline had been called to the Fall River police department. Six months, since her niece had been cleared of all charges.

Caroline pushed away the past and smiled at the future. Reaching out, she patted Beth on the cheek. "How was your day?"

Beth shrugged, her gaze focused on the pan in front of her. "It was okay. I ran into Brett Stevens again. He's such an ass. I don't get why everyone thinks he's so great."

"Ah, honey. He's not worth the effort, just stay out of his way, and try your best to ignore him." Caroline dropped down onto a stool, her gaze on the girl before her.

"He called me, Lizzie." Beth's voice was nearly inaudible.

The anger that poured through Caroline nearly drowned her. Gathering her wits, she struggled to offer her niece some kind of comfort. Quickly she stood and walked to Beth's side. As she pulled the young girl into her arms, she couldn't help the tears that welled up in her eyes. "Ah, Baby, I'm so sorry. I know how hard it's been." Caroline felt a stab of relief as Beth returned her embrace.

Beth had been her older brother's only child. Caroline had been eighteen when her sister-in-law had given birth to Beth. The moment Paul, her older brother, had laid the tiny infant in her arms, Caroline had sworn to herself, that she would watch over the child. Since then they'd been inseparable.

The day that Paul and Karen were murdered in their beds, was the day Beth had become Caroline's whole world. The two of them had stuck together against all odds, from the early days of grief and all through the trial, they'd taken comfort in each other. Now, finally, things had become nearly normal, something that Caroline couldn't help but thank God for.

"We could leave, Beth. Sell the shop and leave town. Go somewhere new and get a fresh start, far from here."

Beth leaned her head on her Caroline's shoulder for a moment, before answering, "No, I won't do it. I won't let them drive me away. I love that shop and so do you." Beth pulled away, wiping her eyes. "I won't run."

Caroline wiped her own eyes and sniffed. "Okay then, we stay and fight. The talk will die down, eventually."

"Right, anyway, it's not all bad, I managed to scare the ever-living life out of him, notoriety has it's privileges." Beth gave her Aunt a watery smile. "You'd would have been so proud, I used the power of my evil, to do good."

"Well, that's something then. Now, come on, lets sit down and eat." Caroline affectionately squeezed her nieces arm. "We're going to be okay, Beth, I promise."

888

Beth lay on the living room rug, a fire in the hearth before her, the warmth nearly lulling her to sleep. As she lay, her thoughts wandered to the boy she'd met earlier. For some reason, she couldn't get his green eyed gaze out of her mind.

"Babe, you mind giving me a hand here?" Caroline stood in the entry of the living room, books stacked in her arms.

Beth swiveled her head, taking in the sight of her tiny aunt, holding a huge stack of books. "What are you doing?"

Caroline dropped down on the floor near Beth, the books tumbling from her arms and landing with a bang. "Sorry, Sweetie." Caroline reached out and divided the hardback books into two piles. With an apologetic glance, she explained, "Can you help me go through them, just record the title and author, and list any noticeable damage? I want to get them priced and ready for sale, and there's plenty more where these came from."

Beth sat up, reaching out, she pulled a stack toward her. "So, where did these come from?"

"Honestly I'm not sure. I finally cleaned out the back room at the store and found boxes of books. I think..." here Caroline's voice trailed to a whisper, "I think your father must have had them at your house. The movers must have delivered them to the shop when we sold the house."

Beth lowered her eyes to the book in her hand. She wondered if her father had held this same book in his hand, or if he'd merely bought the lot on a whim. Her vision swam with tears, as she imagined his hands caressing the spine, as she'd seem him do a hundred times.

Her parents and her Aunt had inherited the bookshop from her grandfather. After her parents had died, Caroline had offered to sell the shop, to move them away from town. Beth had refused, although the house where she'd grown up and her parents had died had been sold, she hadn't been able to let go, the last link she had to her once perfect family.

"You know, I met the nicest young men the other day when I was loading these things into the van," Caroline interrupted Beth's thoughts.

Beth, knowing that Caro was striving to change the subject, was grateful that her aunt knew her so well. "Really?" she answered, as she began to go over the book in her hand.

"Yeah, I think the older boy would be in your school, though I think he might be older than you," Caroline continued, as she began sifting through the books. "He and his little brother stopped by the shop and he helped me load the boxes." Caroline's hands stilled for a moment, her expression thoughtful. "I get the feeling they're on their own a lot. He seemed really careful of his brother, you know."

"Like you always were with me?" Beth couldn't help but smile as she thought of the number of times, she's seen her aunt 'randomly' drive by wherever Beth and her friends had happened to be. The woman wouldn't admit to checking up on Beth, but she knew that's what it was.

"He had the most beautiful eyes, and his grin, wow. Well, I mean, not that I was looking of course, I mean, I wasn't checking him out I just happened to notice."

Beth laughed as expected, at her Aunt's teasing. "Not that you care about a pretty pair of eyes, huh?"

"Honey, I'm telling you, this kid was a looker. He must not be in school with you, or trust me, you would have noticed. His eyes were the brightest shade of green I've ever seen."

Beth turned toward her Aunt, her attention fully engaged by the older woman's words. "His eyes were green, I mean really green?"

"I knew it. I knew if you had any of my blood in you, you'd notice this kid. Yup, that's him. His name is Dean and his younger brother's name was Sam, I get the feeling they're new to town."

"Winchester," Beth mumbled, as she continued to poor over the books, only half listening to her Aunt's chatter.

So he wasn't lying, he did have a brother whom he took to school everyday. Beth admired that, after all family was what mattered above all else. She fleetingly wondered why he was responsible for the boy, why his parents would risk Dean flunking out of Algebra rather than take the kid himself. As Beth's thoughts continued to dig at the problem, she wondered if maybe he was on his own. Well, she thought, there was something she could do. Something that might make life easier for him, after all, she couldn't make things better for herself, she might as well help someone else.


	4. Chapter 4

"Winchester, earth to, Winchester. Come on, son, at least pretend to listen."

Dean looked up, and gave a clearly exasperated Mr. Meyers a lopsided grin. "Sorry."

"You're wanted in the office. They said the end of the period, but you might as well go now. You finished your reading right?" the teacher asked.

"Yup, I'm done," Dean replied, gathering up his books and heading for the door. Not bothering to wait for a reply, Dean headed toward the office. He took his time; he had no interest in hurrying back for English.

Dean found he had little trouble keeping up in school, his 3.0 grade point average was proof of that. He'd always known how to fly under the wire in school. Consistently decent grades were the way to go, no need to shine too bright or people took notice, and failing ran the same risk. So, he did his work with a minimum of fuss, slacked off just enough to keep his grades at an acceptable average and didn't bother himself with more.

To him school was nothing more than a place to pass the time. He had no interest in the lessons that were being taught and he saw no future in the academic world. If anything he enjoyed hands on training. Taking things apart and fixing them, making them work better was where his interests lay. Not that it mattered, not really, his future was already set, and school was simply a necessity in that it kept social services from looking too closely at his family.

Dean let himself into the office, and flashed a smile at the secretary. "Something wrong, Mrs. Connors? Mr. Meyers said you needed to see me?" Dean was a bit hesitant, after all, notice of any kind was never good. However, he was sure that he hadn't done anything to warrant question. He'd even arrived on time for first period today, though he'd about killed himself doing it.

Mrs. Connors, the school secretary, smiled brightly at Dean. "No, everything's fine. Mr. Jensen, the school councilor, just wanted to discuss your schedule, he's in his office. Go on back, I'll let him know you're here."

Dean felt his first stab of true panic. He'd had run-ins with school councilors before and they'd never ended well. Nodding at Mrs. Connors, he headed toward the office door, marked Thomas Jensen. Knocking on the door, Dean opened it as a voice from inside asked him to enter.

The room had a wall of windows overlooking the corridor. Vertical blinds hung at intervals, blocking the view of the hallway. Tom Jensen sat behind a large wooden desk, his bald head shining in the glow from the florescent lights above. He was a small man, thin with a large sharp nose and thick black framed glasses. The combination of which gave him a bird like appearance. To Dean, who watched as he circled the desk and perched on it's edge, he looked like a large crow about to take off in flight.

"Well, Mr. Winchester, so nice to meet you. Why don't you have a seat here? I won't keep you long."

Dean took the seat indicated, hating the chairs close proximity to the man still sitting on the edge of the desk. Leaning back a bit, Dean asked, "Did you need me for something?"

"I wanted a chance to welcome you to our school. We here at Durfee High School always like to welcome our newest students. So what brings you to our fair city?" Jensen focused his dark eyes on Dean, pinning him where he sat.

Dean desperately wanted to wipe his now sweating palms on his jeans, but was afraid Jensen would notice. So instead, he sent the older man a killer smile, and said, "My father got a job here in town."

"Hm... and he is a..."

"Mechanic for the borough," Dean supplied, as was Mr. Jensen's intention.

"Okay then, well I'm sure you're wondering why you're here. We've run into a snag with your schedule. As it's only the first week of school, I wanted to discuss it with you."

Dean had no idea what could be wrong with his schedule. He knew he was on track to graduate, and he'd chosen his classes with that thought in mind. "Is there a problem?" he asked, not sure what was going on.

"Not a problem, per say, just, a concern. I've noticed that you're having a hard time making first period?"

Dean just wished the man would blink, staring up into his owl eyes was starting to really make him nervous. Not sure of how he should answer, Dean went with a shrug.

"Yes, well as you seem to have a problem being on time, I've decided I'm going to change your schedule. You will now have study hall first period and Algebra with Mrs. Mills at sixth." Jensen stood and moved toward the door, the appointment clearly over.

Dean was stunned, in one fell swoop he'd been given everything he could have wanted. He was now out of Treewhig's class, and he could make sure Sam got to the middle school okay. "Yeah, that's fine."

Mr. Jensen opened the door, "Fine then, you know the rules as long as you maintain your student privilege card, you don't have to be at school till the bell rings for homeroom. However, if you're late to homeroom, your privileges will be suspended. Okay. You may return to class."

Dean left the office at a near run, all his problems had just been solved. Just as he reached his class, the bell sounded, signaling the end of the day. Waving a hand at Mr. Meyers, Dean grinned and turned tail as the students began invading the hall. Dodging kids left and right, he quickly made his way to his locker.

As he neared, he groaned. There leaning up against his locker, yet again, was Brittany Boylan. The girl stood, back pressed against his locker, her gaggle of girlfriends and general hanger-ons surrounding her, each one striving to reassure her that she was perfect.

Dean had met a 'Brittany or Brett' at every school he'd ever attended. It never ceased to amaze him that one person could be so shallow and yet have so many people kissing their asses.

He had to admit, this year's variation was hardier than others he'd encountered before. Try as he might, he just couldn't seem to shake the girl's infatuation with him. Lately he'd taken to ignoring her, that's of course why she'd staked out his locker.

Dean slowed his approach, hoping she would get bored and leave. No such luck, if anything even more of her friends arrived, causing a traffic jam of kids in the hall. Stealing himself, he approached his locker. Careful not to acknowledge any of them, he began to elbow his way through the crowd. As he edged his way, he heard a voice call out to him.

"Hey, Dean."

Dean couldn't contain his grin as he heard the familiar voice call out to him. Turning, he scanned the hall, searching for her. Finally, he located her in the sea of students. As he made his way toward her, he called out, "Hey, Beth."

Beth's bright green eyes shined up at him, smiling shyly, she asked, "Hey, did they change your schedule?"

Dean's smile slid off his face, he felt panic seize him at her words. He quickly racked his brain, trying to remember just when he might have said something to Beth about his scheduling problems. He'd run into her a couple of times in the halls, going to and from class, but hadn't done much more than say hi.

Then it hit him, Treewhig had been the one to mention it. "What did you do? Did you tell someone about me?" Fear for his family's safety made his words come out harsher than he intended. He just couldn't afford for word to get out that he missed class to walk his eleven year old brother to school, people would begin to wonder. The Winchesters couldn't afford any type of scrutiny.

Beth pulled back from him at the accusation in his voice. "No, No I didn't Dean..."

Dean didn't let her finish, instead he over rode her words. "My schedule was fine, I don't know what you did, but it was fine."

Beth's tone quickly became angry. "I didn't say anything."

Suddenly a voice called out, only a few feet to Dean's left. "Better watch out, Dean. Old Lizzie there doesn't like to be yelled at, do you Lizzie?"

Dean glanced at Brittany who had noticed his argument with Beth. Not sure of what was going on Dean opted to stay quiet.

"Right Lizzie?" Brittany pushed away from the lockers and approached the other girl, her followers seemed to circle around the three of them. Brittany continued to approach Beth, her face twisted in a sneer, she sang, "Lizzie Borden had an axe, she gave her mother forty whacks. When she saw what she had done, she gave her father forty-one."

Brittany took a step closer. "Only you didn't did you, Lizzie? You gave your mother 14 whacks with that old axe and Daddy dearest, well now Daddy wasn't so lucky. Twenty-three wasn't it, Liz? The last and final blow split his skull."

Brittany's voice dropped even lower, "Man, I would love to know what he did to you to deserve that." Brittany's gaze turned to Dean. "Bet you didn't know that did you? Bet you didn't know that she was in jail."

Dean pulled his gaze away from Brittany, focusing instead on Beth. The young girl's face was bloodless, eyes awash in tears. She seemed to break right there before them, each of Brittany's words cracking another layer of the steel shell, she encased herself in.

Dean knew about walls, he knew the only way to survive was to build them up layer by layer. No longer able to remain quiet, he glared at Brittany, and said, "Shut your foul mouth."

"Come on, Dean," Brittany said, with what she must have thought was a sexy pout. "I thought you were cool? If you plan on fitting in here, you'll soon learn who to stay away from. And Lizzie tops that list."

Dean moved toward Beth, wrapping one arm around her shaking shoulders, he pulled her against him. Using his body, he shielded her from Brittany. Calling on the anger that was pulsing through him, he looked Brittany square in the eye, and said, "I'm telling you now, you will shut up or I will shut you up. It's your choice."

At Dean's words, Brittany suddenly seemed uncertain, her face clouded with doubt. Dean knew the moment she decided to back off, he could see it in her eyes. The girl had expected an easy mark in Beth, and had instead been faced with Dean. She, like all bullies chose to back down, when push came to shove.

"Whatever, I just thought you'd want to know. After all, no one willingly has anything to do with Lizzie. I thought you were cool, Winchester, I can see now you're not. It's your funeral." Brittany stalked off, calling to her friends, "Come on guys, I'm bored. Let's get out of here."

888

Beth couldn't help the tears that made trails down her cheeks. She'd had run-ins with Brittany and her friends before and had always managed to escape before the other girl could break her. Not this time though, this time she'd been unable to move, trapped by a single thought that had echoed in her mind. He hadn't known. He hadn't known that she'd been accused of murdering her parents as they slept in their beds on night. He hadn't known.

It had floored Beth, she was notorious in this town. Though not everyone believed she was guilty, they still knew who she was. Unable to bear watching his face as Brittany spread her poison, Beth knew from that moment on he would look at her different, that he would treat her different.

That was it, that was the last straw for Beth. In that moment, the walls that she'd erected months ago cracked and crumbled. Her protection gone, she could do no more than stand there shattered and broken.

Then he'd slipped his arm around her, and he'd pulled her to his side. It was the first time anyone other than her aunt had intentionally touched her in months. Sometimes to Beth it seemed more like a lifetime.

"Come On, Beth." Dean's tone was calm and reassuring.

Beth content to bask in the heat that poured off him, followed as he slipped her backpack from her shoulder and led her outside.

"I have to get over to the Morton middle school to pick up my brother. Wanna walk with me?" Dean asked, his voice low and soothing.

Unable to find her voice, Beth simply nodded. Using her hand, she tried to wipe the tears from her face.

"Here, take this. It'll work better." Dean released her, pulled a slightly crumpled handkerchief out, and handed it to her.

Dean continued to stay close, shielding her from the glances that followed their progress as they walked away from the school. Beth took comfort in the gesture, content to walk by his side.

888

Dean sat at the table idly tapping his pencil on the notebook in front of him. It was late Sunday evening and he was waiting to see if his father made it back as planned. His eyes starred blankly at the book in front of him, his thoughts centered on Beth.

He couldn't keep his mind off her, it had been Thursday afternoon that they had walked together to get Sam from school. Afterward the three of them had headed for the bookstore, there the brothers had said goodbye to Beth.

That had been the last time Dean had talked to Beth. He'd tried to catch her at school, but he was now pretty sure she was ducking him. On Friday, the school had been abuzz with gossip, pertaining to Beth. Everyone had gone out of their way to try and explain just why Beth was the proverbial black sheep.

Each time he'd been approached he'd made it clear he wasn't interested in the gossip that flowed like water. It's not that he wasn't curious about what had happened, it was simply that he wanted to hear it from Beth herself. That is of course, if she ever talked to him again.

Dean was once again staring off into space, when he heard a noise. A glance at the door, showed the knob was turning. He looked down at his watch and noted it was ten minutes after two o'clock. Standing, he edged his way to the loaded shotgun that leaned against the cabinet.

Although, he was pretty sure it was his father, caution had been ingrained at an early age. Cocking the gun, he waited, eyes intent on the door, as it eased open. Dean watched as his father slipped inside the apartment. The first thing he saw was the bloody towel, his dad had pressed against his temple.

Dean moved forward without thought, dropping the gun on the table. It was his father's barking voice that made him pause.

"You don't ever lay down your weapon until you're sure it's safe. I expect better." His father's words echoed in the quiet.

Dean stopped dead in his tracks his face flushing at the rebuke. Mumbling an apology, he snatched the shotgun back and leveled it at his father. "What's Sam's favorite flavor of Jell-O?"

"Blue Raspberry," was John's reply.

Dean once again dropped the gun on the table, and moved to help his father. "What happened?" Dean questioned, as he helped his father to the table.

John leaned heavily on Dean and together they made their way to the table. Easing John down onto a chair, Dean pulled away the towel, grimacing at the two-inch gash that ran along his fathers' hairline.

"Markenson was a no go. The bastard must know I'm looking for him, he took off in the night." John winced as Dean examined the gash.

Satisfied that he could clean and suture the cut, Dean set about gathering supplies. "How'd you get hurt then?" Dean asked, as he returned to John's side and set about cleaning the wound.

"It was nothing, I stopped off at a bar. Was making some cash and a couple of guys took offense." John shrugged, his expression clearly suggesting it was unimportant. "I kept the money, so we can stock up on supplies."

Dean carefully began stitching his father's cut, his hands steady and gentle. Among the other skills he'd acquired, first aid was something his father had drilled into him. As Dean finished, he quickly applied an antiseptic and bandaged the wound. As he put away the supplies, he tried to hide his now shaking hands from his father.

It was always that way. Dean was ever steady in the thick of things, but once the dust settled he had trouble controlling the emotions that swept through him. Usually it was limited to hand shaking, but sometimes, he nearly panicked trying to find a place where he could be alone. Having something to do helped to lessen the feeling, cleaning their weapons, driving to the next town or even getting Sam settled down helped him to push away his own feelings.

"Thanks, Kid," John rubbed a hand over his face, his exhaustion coming through loud and clear. "I'm going get some sleep." John reached out and gripped Dean on the shoulder. "Get to bed, you can't afford to be late for school."

Dean nodded and watched as his father made his way out of the tiny kitchen. Not for the first time he found himself wondering why his father would have chosen this life. Dean still had hazy memories of John before Mary's death. He'd been a laughing man, one whose joy was his family and his work. Fixing things, whether it was a car engine or re-finishing a piece of furniture, he'd taken enjoyment from everything he did.

But after Mary's death that man had slowly but surely disappeared. He'd become grim and quiet, not speaking unless it was to issue an order. His children were no longer something to enjoy, but more a burden to be protected at all costs. Dean often wondered if Mary had died in some random way, if John would have been altogether different. Or if without revenge fueling his fire he would have simply disappeared under the weight of his grief.

Shaking his head, he finished clearing his supplies, his thoughts once again turning to Beth. Determined not to let her avoid him any longer, Dean made a plan to confront her at school the next day. Turning off the lights, he headed for the bedroom he shared with Sam, his thoughts centered on how to catch Beth alone.


	5. Chapter 5

Sam awoke early like always, glancing at the bed next to him, he was disappointed to find Dean asleep. That meant their father was home. Nights when dad was gone, Dean always fell asleep on the couch. Although, he claimed it was an accident, Sam knew it never happened when John was home.

The Winchesters had been in Fall River for close to four months now. They had fallen into a routine. John would be gone for four to five days at a stretch, and while he was hunting, Dean was in charge. Honestly, Sam always preferred it when his brother was in charge, Dean had a way of making just the two of them seem like a real family.

When John was home, they spent their days balancing schoolwork and training. John wasn't satisfied unless the boys could meet his challenges time and time again. Actually, even then John was rarely satisfied. After every hunt, he read to the boys from his journal, describing the hunt, the clues that were left, and ultimately the creature's demise. This was the one part of training that Sam loved, he loved to see if he could figure out what the baddy was as John laid out the clues.

Sam, hungry and wide awake despite the early hour, headed to the kitchen to make himself breakfast, with John home he knew he was in for a day spent training, he figured he ought to at least enjoy his morning. Grabbing down a box of Lucky Charms, he filled a bowl for himself and one for Dean.

It had become routine on Saturdays for the boys to do one of two things. If John was home, Saturdays became a day of training. From early morning until late afternoon, the boys ran the drills their father set them. It was the weekends their father was on a hunt that Sam had the most fun. The days he spent in the bookshop with Dean, Beth and often Caroline were the most fun he'd ever had.

Beth and Dean never treated Sam like the third wheel he knew he was. They always made a point to include him in their weekend jaunts. Dean even refrained from giving him grief the few times he'd caught the two of them kissing behind the stacks of the bookstore. Dean also seemed happier than Sam ever remembered him being. Really, Sam was surprised, Dean never complained about the weekends he spent training rather than with Beth. Sam himself had a harder time keeping his mouth shut.

Dean's groggy voice called out to Sam, "Morning, Kiddo."

"Morning, Dean. What time did Dad get in?" Sam asked, a noted lack of enthusiasm in his tone.

Sam watched as Dean moved to the counter top. Filling one of the two cups that set before the coffee pot, Dean took a large sip of the hot beverage. "Ah, Sam. I take back every nasty thing I've ever said about you."

Sam grinned, used to his brother's slow mornings. Until Dean downed at least two cups of coffee, he was unable to get in gear. "What did you do in the mornings before I was old enough to make the coffee?" Sam questioned, a grin on his face.

Dean settled in the seat next to Sam, reaching out he ruffled Sam's shaggy hair. "Back then sugar was enough to get me jumpstarted. I'm getting old, Sam." Dean said, his bright green eyes twinkling with suppressed laughter.

Sam just grinned and began eating in earnest. A weekend of training really wouldn't be so bad, not with Dean there to make it bearable.

888

Dean rubbed the sleep out of his eyes. His father had gotten home around midnight worse for the wear. The old man had been less than stable, his words were slurred, and his breath reeked of whiskey. Though it wasn't the first time his father had come home drunk, Dean was always grateful that it seemed to happen only when Sam was asleep. His brother was already too quick to find fault with their father, Dean didn't want things to deteriorate even more.

"Late, Sam, It was late. We have training today. I've figured out a place we can practice your knife throwing, you're getting pretty sloppy." Dean ignored his brother's groan and began to eat.

"Dean, I wanted to go to the bookshop today. Caroline said I could help her stock the shelves." Sam sat there, his gaze pleading with Dean to change his mind.

Dean had no intention of begging off training. Ever since their father had begun insisting that Sam accompany them on hunts, Dean had become fanatic about Sam learning how to defend himself. Trouble seemed to follow Sam like a shadow, forever a step or two behind the kid. Dean seemed to spend a large part of every hunt ensuring Sam's safety to the detriment of all else. As he sat, his baby brother healthy and whole beside him, he vowed once again to keep Sam safe.

"Come on, Kiddo, if we get started now, maybe we'll have time to go for a visit this afternoon."

Sam jumping with enthusiasm gathered his empty bowl and placed it on the sink. "Come on then, let's hurry."

Dean stifled a weary sigh as he watched Sam bound about the kitchen setting the room to rights. Glancing longingly at the half-full coffee pot, he turned toward Sam. "Alright then, let's get moving."

888

Beth awoke slowly, a shaft of bright morning sun shone through her partially closed drapes. Mornings were always the hardest for her. Even now, she no longer suffered from the nightmares, she was reluctant to start the day. Before, that's how Beth now divided her life, into two categories, before the death of her parents and after. Before, she'd always been quick to rise, a smile on her face and a spring to her step. After, after it became a struggle her mornings filled with a sense of dread. It was only in the last couple of months she'd begun to relax. She no longer lay paralyzed by the thought of what she'd find once she left the safety of her bedroom.

Caroline, always sensitive to her needs, had made it a constant point to reassure Beth that all was well. The first night Beth had slept, after her parent's death, she'd awoken in the early pre-dawn light and had fumbled her way into her Aunt's bedroom. Unable to see that her Aunt was fine, Beth had dove for the bed, her hands seeking confirmation that Caroline was okay.

Caroline though scared out of her wits, had quickly allayed Beth's fears, and from then on made it a point to awaken Beth with a light knock on her niece's door, and calling out, "Good morning." This allowed Beth to remain in her room, instead of forcing her to make her way down the hall to ensure her Aunt was safe. Beth lay there now, waiting for her Aunt's call, her thoughts straying to Dean.

That happened a lot lately, her thoughts always seemed to stray to Dean. Ever since he'd reached out and pulled her to him, he rarely left her thoughts. After that first day, she had avoided him, sure that it was all some kind of cosmic joke. Sure that he couldn't really care for her, sure that the moment she lowered her guard, he would turn to the rest of the school and cry "Gotcha".

Instead, he'd proven over and over again, just what loyalty meant. His simple refusal to follow the rest of the school's lead, ensured his status as a loner. The funny thing was the tide was starting to change. People who'd once been her friends were again, beginning to talk to her, though for the most part the girls that cornered her in various parts of the school wanted nothing more than details on Dean. Beth slow to forgive always begged off answering, not realizing that her refusal to give details only increased Dean's reputation.

Over all things were better for Beth than they had been in a long time. As she heard the familiar tread of her Aunt's fuzzy slippers in the hall, she called out a good morning before Caro had the chance.

A knock on the door sounded a moment before Caroline opened it. Peeking around the door, she shot Beth a bleary grin. "So, is the shadow and his older brother coming to the shop today?"

Beth had to grin at Caroline's apt description. Sam was like a shadow, he was enthralled with the shop, and happy as a clam to do nothing more than follow Caroline around while she fulfilled her duties. "No, I'm not expecting them. Dean said they'd be busy with their dad all day."

Caroline frowned a bit at the mention of the Winchester boy's father. "Have you met him yet? I don't know that I like the way those boys run wild, it seems as if he doesn't make much time for them."

Beth knew the look on her Aunt's face, it was her interfering look. Though Dean had said little about his father, Beth knew that Caroline's interference in his life might well be enough to drive him away. "I just said they're spending the day with him. He's just busy, it's hard for him, raising the kids on his own."

Caroline sighed a bit, "I guess, still...something just seems off. You'd tell me right, if the boys were in some kind of trouble? You'd let me help?"

Beth nodded sincerely. "I would, but I think they're fine. It's just that they're all guys, you know, not so much with the touchy-feely stuff." Beth honestly meant what she told her Aunt, regardless of how much Dean would hate it, she would ask her Aunt for help if he needed it, after all, he'd done so much for her.

"Okay then, you know best. I love seeing you so happy, kid." Caroline smiled and closed the door.

Beth lay relaxed against her bed, her thoughts once again straying to Dean.

888

"Dean, come here." John Winchester called to his oldest son. Glancing at his watch, he couldn't help but curse, already after two o'clock, and he was just getting moving. Normally, something like that wouldn't bother him, after all, the majority of his life was spent at night. Today was different, last night he hadn't been spent chasing a hellhound or filling some spirit with rock salt. Instead, he'd spent it in the bottom of a bottle of Jack, and to top it off, Dean had been the one to put him to bed.

Running a hand through his dark hair, he couldn't help the burst of remorse that moved through him at the thought of Dean seeing him at his worst. He tried so hard to keep his emotions in check, but every now and then, he found he was unable. Especially in the fall, it always became harder as the date of Mary's death drew near.

"Yeah, Dad, what's up?" Dean asked, as he entered the small kitchen.

"I thought I told you today was for training." John as always found comfort in his job, and this part of his job, preparing his sons for what lay ahead, meant everything to him.

"I know, Dad," Dean answered, quick to give John the rundown on what they'd accomplished since seven.

John stared at his son, unsurprised that Dean had taken the initiative and started training. Dean seemed to take Sam's training even more seriously than John did, and by extension his own. John knew his older son, knew that he would see his own training as something to perfect, simply to give him the tools necessary to keep his brother safe.

"Huh, good. You can have the rest of the day then," John allowed gruffly. "Where's your brother?"

Dean grinned, the sight of his wife's smile shining back at him from his oldest son, nearly drove John to his knees. "He got a bit muddy this afternoon, he just got out of the shower."

John unable to face Dean's smile turned to stare out the dingy kitchen window. "Good, if he's getting dirty you must be doing something right."

Dean's smile faded as his father turned his back. Unsure if he'd done something wrong, Dean was careful with his response. "Yes, sir. I kept him busy."

"Busy," Sam replied with a snort, as he entered the kitchen, "you cheated, Dean."

John turned toward Sam with a small smile, as he listened to his son's banter. He rarely tired of hearing the good-natured insults his two sons used to communicate their affection for each other. It always reminded him of the friendships he'd had in the corps, after all, in the service insulting someone was considered a necessary skill.

"Listen, Tiger, it's not cheating it's winning," Dean said, his voice suddenly becoming serious. "You're too soft, Sam. Some day it's going to catch up to you."

"I'm not soft, I just don't want to hurt you," Sam countered, avoiding his brother's gaze.

Dean's inelegant snort, conveyed just what he thought of that sentiment. "Trust me, Francis, I'll be okay. You won't, if you don't learn to fight dirty."

"Boys, you done?" John asked, breaking into their conversation, discomfited that they seem to have forgotten he was in the room.

Dean jerked back toward John, his face slightly flushed with embarrassment. "Yes, sir." Sam on the other hand merely waited for his father's next words.

"I was just telling Dean, that you boys are free for the rest of the day." John saw the excitement light up Sam's face as he turned questioningly toward his older brother. Curious as to what caused it, John waited and listened

.

"We can go then right, Dean, to the bookstore, you promised," Sam reminded Dean.

"Yeah, Sammy, we can go. Finish getting dressed and we'll head over." Dean watched as his brother fled the kitchen in a rush.

"Bookstore, doesn't sound like something you'd do," John said, not expecting the faint flush that radiated up Dean's cheeks. John watched as Dean shrugged, trying to seem nonchalant.

"It's nothing, just a store down town. Sam likes hanging out there," Dean replied.

"You do too, Dean. I know you want to see Beth," Sam piped up, as he came back from the bedroom a pair of socks and his sneakers in hand.

"Who's Beth, Sammy?" John questioned knowing Sam would tell him straight out. Sam had yet to learn the fine art of keeping his mouth closed. Though, John figured, as Sam began spilling all of Dean's hard kept secrets he would soon be taught that lesson by his older brother. Interrupting Sam's flood of words, John focused on one crucial part. "Your girlfriend, Dean, since when do you have a girlfriend?"

"Dean's had lots of girlfriends, Dad. Some skirt is always chasing him," Sam provided, happy to be of use.

"Sam out, go straighten up your room before you take off, I'd like to talk to your brother alone." John couldn't believe, he hadn't realized, at fifteen, Dean would have already begun seeing girls in a whole new light.

Sam took off in a flash with a hastily shouted, "I'll hurry, Dean," thrown over his shoulder.

John turned to face his oldest boy and realized he no longer needed to look down to meet Dean's gaze. "Boy, you really grew this summer, huh, kid." John new the statement was weak at best, but he was really out of his element here.

Dean merely shrugged, and said, "It's no big deal, Dad. She's just a friend from school, you know how Sammy's always blowing things out of proportion."

"Yeah, but even if it's not this girl, there's bound to be someone down the line that catches your eye." John cleared his voice. "What I mean to say is you, you have to protect yourself, Dean."

At his words, Dean's face paled and his freckles stood out in relief. "Dad, please I know."

"No, Son, you need to hear this. We don't have a normal life, you're not like other kids your age. You need to remember that we wont be here come summer, and we'll never be back. I just don't want you pining away for some girl when we have to leave." Here John's voice brooked no nonsense, "And we will leave."

Dean blew out a breath at John's words. "I know, Dad, no attachments. I get it, it's really not a big deal."

John nodded, feeling enough had been said, at least till he realized just what having a girlfriend might entail for a fifteen-year-old boy. Clearing his throat, John fought down his own rising embarrassment, not quit sure how to put it, he simply said, "Just remember it may be fun to plow the field, but I will personally kill you, if you plant any corn."

John proud of himself for his analogy couldn't hide his annoyance when his son burst out laughing. Dean stood, holding his sides as tears of mirth streaked his cheeks, every now and then just as he would begin to quiet, John would hear him snort out words like, field and plow. John stood watching his son caught in the throes of laughter, he found himself wondering just how long it had been since he'd heard Dean really laugh. Unable to yell at the boy, he simply ground out, "You get my point."

His son finally managed to control his laughter, meeting his father's gaze he nodded. "I get ya, Dad. I'll be careful."

"Good, that's what matters." John rubbed a hand across his bearded jaw, as he wondered just what else he was behind on in his son's lives. Recalling something Sam had said, John asked, "If you're going to see this girl, why's Sam tagging along?"

Dean gave his father an undecipherable look before answering, "Sammy always goes."

John knew what Dean inferred, though he knew his son would never admit to it aloud. Dean refused to leave Sam alone, and John was so often away or occupied with a case, Dean had little choice but to take his brother. "Not today, you go on. Sammy and I'll spend the afternoon together."

John watched as Dean dropped his eyes, the boy refused to meet his gaze, as he answered, "Sam loves that shop, Dad. He's going to be hurt if I go without him."

"Oh, right, well, I'll make it up to him, he still likes arcades right?" John asked, turning away from the censure he was sure would be in his son's eyes.

Dean's voice became enthusiastic, as he replied, "Yeah, he still does, a lot in fact. There's one over at the mall, it even has a pizza parlor built in."

John nodded, his gaze once again on the small dirty window above the sink. "Good, I'll treat him to some games and a pie. You just make sure you're home before 10:30."

Dean's heartfelt, "Thanks, Dad." Tore a little bit of John's already battered heart. His son's next words shocked a harsh burst of laughter from him.

"By the way, Dad, I know it's a bit early but you might want to rethink the whole farming analogy when you give Sam the birds and the bees lecture. I can only imagine just how much you'll confuse him." Dean snickered.

John turned from the sink, a full-fledged smile breaking up the harsh lines of his face. "Oh, no, Dean. That was my first and only sex education lecture, when it's your brother's turn you can do the honors."

Dean smile fled in an instant at his father's words, "That's not funny, Dad," he called out, as he took off out the back door.

John watched as Dean left the kitchen, his smile fading, as he realized this was the first non-supernatural conversation they'd had in a long time. Vowing that next week would be Dean's turn to hang out with his old-man, John headed toward the boy's room intending to tell Sam that his plans had changed.

888

Dean lopped down the road, his steady stride eating up the miles between his apartment and the bookstore. His father's words echoed in his mind, sooner than later the Winchesters would pack up and leave Fall River. Deep down he'd known it, but had managed to convince himself it was unimportant. He had told himself that what he shared with Beth was no more than friendship and he would have no problem leaving her when the time came.

It was a lie, plain and simple, and Dean knew it. He also knew he was now incapable of walking away from Beth, she'd managed to wrap herself around his heart without him even knowing. She understood him unlike anyone else he'd ever known, she never pushed, and she didn't demand. Most of all, she saw him as something more than a guardian for Sam or a soldier in a never-ending war. When she looked at him, she saw a boy, a boy who was doing his best to get by in a harsh world. For that alone she would forever have a place in his heart.

As he neared the store, he was careful to push away his thoughts, he didn't want to have to deal with it today, after all, except school, this would be the first time they spent together without Sam tagging along. As he entered the cool, dark shop, he grinned and nodded to Caroline who stood at the register, placing a finger to his lips, he silently questioned the older woman.

Caroline grinned and pointed toward the stacks on her left, indicating her niece was over there. Dean winked in reply and moved toward the bookcase, easing his way around it, he stopped for a moment to admire Beth as she stocked shelves. Her long red-gold hair hung loose down her back, and her hands moved in graceful arcs as she placed the books on the shelf. Slipping behind her, he playfully reached out and traced a finger down her cheek.

Beth screamed, there was no other way to put it, her bloodcurdling cry echoed through the building, making Dean jump back a step in surprise. Calling out to her, Dean stepped forward and reached out, to his dismay she shrank from his hand, "Beth, what's wrong? I'm sorry, I didn't mean to scare you."

Beth didn't seem to hear him, she was slowly backing away her eyes glazed over, her face etched with fear. As her aunt appeared at the end of the stack, Beth took off. Dean watched her leave the building feeling confused and lost.

Caroline's sharp gaze shifted from her niece to Dean. "What happened?"

Dean shrugged, not sure himself. "I startled her, she just went off."

Caroline eyes filled with tears. Gazing toward the door her niece had disappeared out of, Caroline sighed. "I thought she was getting better, that's the first time she's overreacted in months."

"Do you know where she went?" Dean asked, already moving toward the door.

"Check the elementary school playground, she likes to sit in the big concrete tunnels."

"I'll bring her home later," he stated, as he left the shop, his focus on reaching the school as soon as possible.

By the time he finally tracked her down, she was sitting inside one of the large concrete **tunnels **that were scattered around the playground. Ducking down he found her, back pressed against the curved concrete wall, her head rested on her knees, which were drawn up against her chest. Crawling inside, he noticed how warm it was inside the tunnel, the wind, which had picked up was unable to reach them.

"I'm sorry, you didn't have to come here, Dean. I would have understood." Beth kept her head on her knees, refusing to look at him. "You don't need someone like me, you deserve someone that's whole, and I've been broken too long."

Dean moved closer, his shoulder brushing hers, unsure of what he could say that would make her understand he wasn't going anywhere, he decided on the truth. "You think you're the only one?" Dean was assured he'd said the right thing when she reached out and wrapped herself around him. Turning into her, Dean held her as she cried, huge, racking sobs that made his chest ache, he could only imagine what they were doing to her.

They remained that way for a long time, until finally her tears subsided in to sniffles. Pulling out a handkerchief, Dean gently wiped her face.

"Why is it you're always prepared for me to cry and snot all over you?" Beth asked, as she took the square of material from him.

"You can thank Sam, he doesn't anymore, but I learned early on that you need to carry something when you have a little brother. His nose always seemed to be dripping or his face was in need of wiping down. Now it's just a habit, and I have to say lately it's come in handy."

Beth carefully folded the square and tucked it into her pocket. "I'm getting quite the collection, I guess you must think I'm a silly, weak, girl."

Dean pulled her against his chest, he enjoyed the way she fit against him, her head just resting under his chin. Holding her tight, he said, "No, I think you're one of the strongest people I've ever met. What I would like to know is what happened back there. I don't want to hurt you like that again."

Dean felt some of the tension return to Beth's body, holding her close, he waited, she would either confide in him or not. Either way, he was prepared, he had too many of his own secrets to pass judgment on Beth for keeping hers.

Beth once again relaxed against him, drawing a deep breath, she said, "It all started with a dream."


	6. Chapter 6

Beth had spoken only once of what had occurred that night, it had been the day she'd given her statement to the police. At the time, she had spoken only to her aunt and a female police officer, though, eventually the statement became public record. Now, as she readied herself to tell Dean, she knew the time was right. She had carried the burden of that night for too long, and she longed to set down the load.

Beth hoped that by confiding in Dean, sharing her darkest moment, she would be able to walk away from it at last. To move on, to remember her parents the way they had been, rather than how they appear in her nightmares. If anyone could chase away her demons, it would be the boy that held her so carefully in his arms.

Over the past months, she'd learned many things about Dean. He was brave, loyal, forthright, a protector of the weak and wickedly funny. He put everyone he cared about before himself and never seemed to realize it. He asked for nothing and yet offered everything of himself.

Beth knew if there was anyone in the world she could tell, it was Dean. He'd proven time and again just how much he cared for her, it was in his green eyes that could take her breath away. In the firm grip he used to pull her close and most of all it was in the silent moments between kisses when they just existed together. It was then she knew Dean was forever, as unchanging as the sea, he would always be there for her.

Certain of her choice, Beth began. "It all started with a nightmare, dumb huh. Night after night, I'd wake up sure something was in the room with me." Beth chanced a glance at Dean, his steady gaze met hers, giving her the courage to go on. "It was so real, it got so I couldn't sleep, every time I closed my eyes I was so sure there was something there. A cold finger sliding down my cheek, the whisper of breath feather light on my hair. After a while, it began to take it's toll on me, I no longer slept, I couldn't eat, my grades started slipping."

Beth drew in a shaky breath, gathering her courage she continued, "My parents didn't understand they tried to help but they were out of their league. It went on, the feelings grew stronger, I became nearly catatonic. Then the night before I..." Beth swallowed hard, and snuggled closer to Dean, her body unconsciously seeking the comfort he offered, "found them, they told me they'd found a therapist, a specialist to help me."

Beth could still remember how she felt in those last days, at that point she'd been living her life in a fog of exhaustion, barely capable of stumbling through her day. "We fought, God, it was terrible, the things I shouted at them. I never meant it but still. Finally, I tore out of the kitchen and locked myself in my room. I was so angry, and now, looking back I can see they were right to suggest I get help, I needed it."

Regrets were something Beth had learned to live with, after all, she'd learned first hand that some things could never be taken back. However, if she could do over just one thing, it would be to take back the angry words she'd shouted that night. "I told them I hated them, but I didn't, Dean, you have to believe me. I was tired and hurt, but I didn't hate them. I loved them." Beth stopped speaking unable to stem the flow of tears that began to trickle down her cheeks.

Dipping his head forward, Dean kissed her softly. Taking the handkerchief that she held wadded up in her hand, he gently blotted away her tears. "I know."

His simple statement, backed by the belief she could hear in his voice was enough to allow Beth to continue. "I must have dozed off at some point, I'm not sure. The next thing I knew it was late morning. I felt so terrible about what I'd said, I went in search of my parents to tell them I was sorry. I actually thought they'd left the house, after all, it would never have occurred to me that they were still in bed. It was only once I saw that their cars were still in the garage that I went upstairs to their room."

It had been the smell she had noticed first, the smell, and the complete lack of noise. As she pushed open the door, she had already known that something was wrong. "I knew it, oh, not what, but that something horrible had happened. My father lay closest to the door, his body was sprawled across the floor. I never...realized just how much blood was in a human body. It was everywhere, splatters on the walls and ceilings..." Here Beth's voice faltered unable to continue she simply leaned into Dean's warmth, waiting for his heat to melt the ice that gripped her.

Finally, she gathered her courage and went on. "My mom was by the side of the bed. That's the last thing I remember, the rest I heard from other people. Apparently, I screamed, loud and long enough that a neighbor heard and came to investigate it. I was found kneeling in my mother's blood, my hands covered with it as I tried to stop her bleeding. Of course, it was too late, by then."

Beth paused for a moment as a shred of self-doubt crept into her heart. Only her need to be rid of the horrible images that were burned into her brain allowed her to go on. After all, the police weren't the only ones baffled by her parent's death. "The coroners report claimed it was too late by hours. At first, everyone agreed that it was an intruder of some kind. At least until they contacted the alarm company and found that no one had entered or left all night. Even then I was given the benefit of the doubt, it was the consensus that an intruder had snuck in when we were still awake and had left in the commotion surrounding the discovery of the bodies."

Beth could hardly remember those early days, her Aunt's unfailing faith and love had been the only thing that had really registered with her. At least until the morning she'd found herself in the police station being interrogated by the same woman officer that had taken her statement. "There was no evidence, no proof that someone else had ever been there and no proof that I committed the...that I...there was nothing. So eventually the police had to let me go."

Dean waited a moment more, perhaps to let her finish, but more likely to give her a moment to gather her thoughts, before he asked, "Caroline was the only one to believe you?"

Beth smiled sadly. "Yeah, she never wavered. She sold the house and everything she could get her hands on to buy the best lawyer to be had, she was the only thing that kept me going."

"I would have believed you," Dean's low voice sent a shiver up her spine.

Together they lay in that tunnel limbs wrapped around each other, hearts beating in sync. Beth had nearly fallen asleep when she heard Dean quietly question, "Your dreams, do you still have them?"

888

Dean glanced at his watch once more and picked up his pace. He'd be lucky if he made his 10:30 curfew, not that his father would notice anyway, but Dean had given his word. Picking up his pace, he jogged down the darkened street his mind turning over everything Beth had told him. Suddenly he needed his father, something was wrong, he knew it, he just wasn't able to put his finger on it.

Dean arrived three minutes before curfew, using his key, he unlocked the door and eased it open. He knew his father was probably already asleep, last nights binge was probably still working it's way through his system. Dean didn't want to risk waking him if his father had fallen asleep on the couch as usual. Expecting a quiet hush, Dean instead walked into a zoo.

Sam sat babbling a mile a minute as his father moved about the small living-area, gathering supplies. Dean watched for a moment, a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. He knew the signs, his father's single-minded packing and his kid brother's never ending questions, his father was leaving.

"Hey, Dean, I got to level Ten in Dragon Slayer," Sam chirped pride evident in his voice.

"Hey, Sam, that's great." Dean answered absently. "What's going on Dad?"

"Got a job, I should be back by the end of the week. I was just waiting for you to get back before I left." John grabbed his duffle and slung it over his back. Rubbing the back of his neck, he hesitated, shooting Sam a look from the corner of his eye. "Here you go, Son."

Dean took the proffered money, noticing just how thin a wad it was. Careful not to indicate his worry to Sam, Dean simply nodded.

"Wendell owes me money, head on over there Friday afternoon and he'll pay you, Okay? I'll call him and let him know to expect you." John moved toward the door.

Dean glanced at Sam, hesitant to say anything in front of his brother. Finally he couldn't hold back any longer, he knew if he did he'd miss his chance. "Dad, I really needed to talk to you. Can I walk with you down to the car?"

"I'll catch you later, Dean. I've got to get on the road." With these words, John walked out, leaving his son to stare after him.

Dean watched as his father left, closing the door behind him, a sudden anger filling him at John's dismissal. After all, it's not as if Dean often made such demands on his father's time. Dean turned to face Sam, careful to plaster a grin on his face. It may not be his normal smile, but it was the most he could manage at the moment.

"Come on, Sam, it's way past your bedtime." Dean began to secure the apartment, shutting off lights, and double-checking the salt lines and protection.

"Dean, is something wrong?"

It was Sam's slightly worried voice that snapped Dean out of his thoughts. Dean turned to look at his kid brother, a bit shocked by just how young and worried he looked. Despite the inches gained by his little brother this summer past, Dean only noticed, his too wide eyes, unruly hair, and sheepish expression. To Dean at this moment, Sam once again looked like the little kid that not so long ago would climb onto his lap, begging to hear a story.

Dean, accepting the mantle of responsibility this thought brought to him, set aside his own concerns and set about reassuring Sam. "Nope, everything's fine." Reaching out, Dean snagged his arm, around his brother's shoulders, giving him a rough shake he began to question Sam about his day.


	7. Chapter 7

Sam knew that Dean was not all right. Though he was making an effort, Sam knew better than to believe the lie that was his brother's smile. Not sure what was bothering him, Sam bided his time, hoping Dean would confide in him.

That hope came and went as the brothers lay side by side, their matching twin mattresses resting on the floor, a faint glow from the bedside lamp lighting the room. The bedroom was small, so small, in fact, there was less than a foot between the beds. The once white walls were darkened by countless years of smoking and grime, the bright gold rug on the floor was now threadbare and tarnished, regardless, Dean had done his best to make the place a home.

Two battered posters hung on the wall, the first a single black rectangle touting Mettalica's black album, the second a close up of Pamela Anderson, her blond hair in a tangle from a non-existent wind and her low riding, bright red bathing suit clinging to her curves. Poor Pam was becoming a bit worse for wear, after all, she'd adorned the walls of many different apartments and even a hotel or two.

Along with the two mattresses and the posters, the room held nothing else other than a battered nightstand with a slightly broken Tiger lamp. Dean had scrounged it out of someone's trash and had rewired it. Last but not least, Sam's baby quilt lay across his bed, one of the only things that had survived the fire. Like the posters, Dean always made sure the blanket went with them from town to town.

As a young child Sam had carried it everywhere, later once he'd decided he was too grown up for it, he'd left it behind on one of their many moves.Of course, Sam had regretted the decision ten minutes later, but had been unable to ask his father to go back for it. Dean had known though, he'd known that no matter how much Sam wished to grow up, there were some things that were harder to let go than others. So, Dean, being Dean, he'd had gone back for it without telling Sam. After they'd found a new place, the blanket, like the posters, had been pulled out and put in place with never a word from Dean.

Sam had nearly cried in relief, seeing the battered blanket resting at the base of his bed. Gathering it into his arms, he'd fallen soundly asleep for the first time in days. The blanket had followed them everywhere since. Though it had been patched and mended time and time again by Dean's careful hand, it was still Sam's most favorite possession.

Tucked underneath it now, Sam glanced toward his brother, taking in the older boy's profile as Dean stared at the ceiling above. "Dean, what's wrong? Are you upset because Dad left?" Sam asked.

Dean's gaze remained on the ceiling. "Nothing's wrong, Runt. I'm fine."

Sam leaned on his side a bit, watching Dean carefully. "You're not fine, you haven't been since you came home. Why not just tell me now so I'll stop bugging you?"

Sam watched as his words brought a slight smile to Dean's face. Pushing once more, Sam asked, "Is it Beth, did you two fight?"

His brother turned his head, meeting Sam's gaze. Sam knew Dean was going to talk, after all, his brother feared little except Sam's relentless pursuit of the truth.

With a begrudging sigh, Dean answered, "Naw, we didn't fight. She told me about her parents," Dean said the words in a rush.

Sam nodded, sympathy filling his heart for Beth. "About how she was accused of murdering them?"

888

Dean had been planning to keep the specific's of the Walsh's death to himself, after all, Sam was fond of Beth and the details weren't pleasant. His brother's mater-of-fact response had him sitting up and staring at the kid in question. "What do you know about it?"

Sam sat up also leaning against the wall, he faced Dean, his knees drawn to his chest, his blanket clenched unconsciously in his hands. "I know Beth was taken into custody. I know there wasn't enough evidence to convict her. I know that no one was ever formally charged in the case."

Dean shook his head, leave it to his brother to have more facts than Dean himself had. "Where'd you find that out? Gossip?" Dean had to laugh a bit at the injured look on his baby brother's face.

"No, I wouldn't listen to gossip. I..." Here Sam's voice faltered a bit, "I mean everyone was always talking about her, so I researched her parent's death, shortly after we first met."

"Sam," Dean's voice was rough with displeasure. "What do you mean, you looked her up? That's a good way to draw attention to yourself, researching murder cases."

Sam shrugged, he lowered his head a bit looking up at Dean through his shaggy bangs. "I was doing a school project and her parent's murder came up. So I did some digging."

Dean's irritation disappeared at his little brother's confession. "What school project?"

"I came across it while I was doing a history report. Not much was ever printed in the papers, Beth was a minor, so it was really just the basics. The Walsh's were killed with an axe or similar weapon, whatever did it was never found. They were killed between the hours of midnight and four in the morning. There was no sign of struggle, no defensive wounds. Either they never expected the blows to fall or the killer remained unseen until the last minute. That's about it."

Dean nodded, his brother had been unable to provide any more information than he'd gotten from Beth. A moment later a thought came to him. "Beth's mother was found on the floor, what do you mean there was no struggle. She just lay on the floor and let someone hack into her with an axe? That makes no sense."

Sam shrugged, and said, "I'm just telling you what I read."

"How'd you come across the article, you said you were doing a history report?" Dean questioned, his mind turning over the facts, as he listened to his little brother.

"Lizzie Borden." Sam seemed almost surprised that Dean would even need to ask.

Dean again directed his attention back to his brother. "What about her?"

"You know the childhood rhyme. Lizzie Borden had an axe, she gave her father forty whacks. When she saw what she had done, she gave her mother forty-one. You had to have heard it. She lived here, in Fall River."

Dean arched a brow in surprise. "She did?"

Sam nodded, happy to tell Dean what he knew. "Yeah, over on Second Street. That big, old, two story green house, the one they're renovating. Her parents were killed there."

"No shit, that's where Lizzy killed them?" Dean had to grin a bit at Sam's world weary sigh.

"She was never convicted, there wasn't any evidence. No one was ever charged with their deaths. That's why I came across Beth's story, there's only been three cases of unsolved murder in Fall River since it was incorporated."

"I could have sworn she was guilty, what happened, why wasn't she convicted?" Dean asked struggling to remember any details pertaining to the Borden murders. Unfortunately, other than the song, he could remember little.

"It happened on August 4, 1892, their were only four people in the house the day the Borden's were murdered. Lizzie, an Irish maid named Bridget, and Andrew and Abby Borden. The maid claimed she'd been napping at around 11:00 a.m. Lizzie woke her up, telling her that Andrew had been killed. It was shortly after that the maid came across Abby Borden dead in the guest bedroom. There was no evidence, nothing tying Lizzie to the murders other than the fact that she was home. It wasn't enough to convict her."

Dean considered everything Sam had told him. At last he met his brother's gaze. "Do you think she did it?"

Sam shook his head slowly and followed it with a shrug and a frustrated sigh. "I don't think she did, but who knows, at the time crime scene investigations were pretty basic."

Dean lay down once more, one hand resting on his stomach the other tucked behind his head. As he stared again at the ceiling above, he let his mind drift over everything Beth had told him. Slowly little by little he told Sam, giving his brother every last detail, careful to leave nothing out. At last, Dean answered Sam's every question, falling silent, he waited. It took twelve minutes, Dean lay there counting off the seconds.

"Dean, something killed Beth's parents," Sam's voice echoed with conviction.

Dean nodded. "Yup, yeah I'm pretty sure something did. That's what I wanted to talk to Dad about. Her dream, I don't think it was a dream. I think it was whatever killed her parents."

Sam nodded, flipping onto his back he mirrored Dean's position. "True, besides all three cases are just too similar."

Three, the number seemed to echo through the room, Dean scrambled to make sense of what Sam was saying. "Three, you mean four. Two sets of parents."

"No, Dean Three sets of people. I told you, there was another murder in town six weeks before the Borden murder." Sam continued on, "A vagrant was blamed for murdering the first couple. Some guy had been seen lurking around the neighborhood. Same m.o. as the Borden murders, that's one of the reasons Lizzie got off, most people felt this mystery man killed the Bordens."

Dean forced himself to relax once more. As he lay, he found himself wishing his Dad was there. He wasn't sure what to do, Beth's dreams had stopped. If it was something supernatural it had either been appeased at the Walsh's death or else it had been left behind when Beth's old house had been sold. Either way it was no longer haunting Beth, which should have made Dean feel better, but instead left him with a feeling of unease.

Dean got to his feet and switched off the silly Tigger lamp that sat on the nightstand at the foot of his bed. Lying back down, he listened to Sam settle in for the night. The shuffling sounds that came from Sam's bed were as familiar to Dean as his brother's breathing. He'd gone to sleep listening to those sounds every night of his life for as far back as he could remember.

Once he was sure Sam was asleep, Dean made to slip out of bed. For years now, whenever his Dad was on a job, Dean had taken to sleeping on the couch. Or whatever the Winchester's had that resembled a couch and a living room. He always felt safer if he was between Sam and the front door.

Tonight Dean hesitated, as he watched his brother for a moment he was forcibly reminded of Beth and her nighttime visitor. Unable to shake the worry that gripped him, Dean tread silently into the living room, opening the closet he found the duffle bag containing the weapons his father had left behind. Finally, his hand closed about the hilt of a hunting knife, drawing the weapon out of the bag, he examined the blessed blade for a moment. Content that the knife would do, he headed back to his room. Once there, he shut the door, suddenly glad his bed closest to the door. Slipping the blade under his pillow, he settled back into bed, content that anything that tried to reach Sam would have to come through him first.

888

"Beth, honey, would you come in here."

Beth lowered her bag onto the bench by the door and moved toward the sound of her aunt's voice. As she entered the living room, she called out, "Hey what's all this?" referring to the piles of books that lay scattered around the room.

"This is the last of your father's books. I just have to get them priced and on the shelves and we'll be good to go." Caroline returned her attention back to the book in her hand. Frowning in concentration, she jotted down some notes in the notebook that rested on her knee. "How about you order us a pizza for tonight and then come on over here and help me go through these?"

Beth watched her aunt for a moment, her love for the older woman nearly overwhelming her, after all her aunt had been her life for so long. Unable to express herself, Beth walked over to Caro and dropped down beside her. As she wrapped her arms around her Aunt, she hugged her long and hard.

"Hey, honey what's going on, are you okay?" Caroline's voice tinged with worry, made Beth pull back.

"I'm fine." Beth smiled broadly willing her Aunt to realize she really was fine. Dropping her a wink, Beth said, "Better than fine actually."

Caroline leaned back a bit, studying Beth. "Better than fine, huh. Guess that Winchester boy is really one of the good guys, huh?"

Beth's grin widened even more, pushing herself to her feet, she headed for the kitchen intending to order the pizza. As she did, she called out, "Yup, he really is."

888

Beth came awake in an instant. She lay unmoving, eyes clenched shut, trying to make sense of what had awoken her. She felt as if she should know, there was something familiar in the panic that gripped her. As her heart began to race and sweat began pool in the cleft between her breasts she recognized her panic for what it was. Her nightmare was back, it'd been six months since she'd last woken in a panic, the urge to vomit gripped her.

Her heart thudded so loudly, Beth wondered how Caroline didn't hear it in the next room. She also became aware of the mewling sounds she was making, though she was unable to stop. She pressed herself into her pillow, straining to distance herself from what she knew was coming. Tears leaked out of her eyes and her breath hitched when at last something cold caressed her cheek. Stifling a sob, her mind shattered and she was thrown back in time to the bleak moments that had ruled her life six months ago, to the night her parents were killed.

At last unable to remain in the dark, she forced her eyes open. Even as her hand scrambled for her glasses, her blurry gaze found a pair of black bottomless eyes. Fetid breath caressed her cheek and a soft whimper left her, as her hand finally closed around her glasses. She drew her glasses toward her, her shaking hand nearly dropping them in the process. At last, she managed to put them on, throwing her room into sharp relief.

It was gone, and other than her sweat-soaked bed and pounding heart, there was no sign anything had ever been there. Unable to control her shaking, Beth turned onto her side. As she lay, her knees drawn to her chest, eyes once again shut to the world, she concentrated on breathing, trying to push back the urge to vomit.

After her parent's death, the dream had abruptly ended. No longer suffering from a nightly dose of paralyzing fear courtesy of her nightmare, she'd slowly but surely begun to sleep once more. Now her nights were punctuated by torturous dreams of a more normal sort, watching her parents die at the hand of a faceless psycho, dreams of herself being thrown into jail and even the lesser scare of living the rest of her life as the town pariah. It had never occurred to her to wonder about the nightmare that had made life living hell on earth.

Now as her heartbeat calmed, she found herself wondering if the re-occurrence of her dream was simply a reaction to her discussion with Dean or if it went deeper. What if it was some part of her subconscious was trying to steal what happiness she'd finally gained? There was also a part of her, a very small part, that lived inside her heart and whispered to her on dark nights. This voice insisted that she was the only one inside the house at the time of their death. It insisted that her sleepless nights and constant waking nightmares had driven her over the edge. That the thought of seeking help for her problem had so incensed her that she'd spewed evil and hurtful things to the people she'd loved the most. If she was capable of saying such awful things what more was she capable of?

Beth lay still her eyes drifting shut as the surge of adrenaline that'd swept through her body only moment ago deserted her. Unable to remain awake she drifted off, her last thought was a silent prayer the heavens above.


	8. Chapter 8

"What do you mean, she's not here? She said she'd be in this morning." Dean glanced toward the shop's door, hoping that Beth would wander in.

Caroline turned to Dean, her expression serious. "She slept in, I was a bit surprised. She hasn't slept late in months. Was everything okay with you two last night? She seemed fine when she came in, but..." Caroline's voice trailed off.

Dean shook his head, when he'd walked Beth home the night before all had been good. They'd kissed goodbye and had agreed to meet at the bookstore in the morning. Before their talk last night, he wouldn't have worried about her being late. Now, however, he couldn't help but wonder if something was wrong.

"Maybe, Sam and I'll take a walk over to the house, see if she's up yet." Dean exchanged glances with his brother. He could see Sam was also concerned about Beth.

Caroline nodded and began shelving books once more. "Good, I'm sure she's just feeling a bit lazy today?"

Dean nodded and said goodbye. As they left the shop, Sam said, "Something's wrong."

Dean shook his head. "I hope not, Kiddo. I mean I'm sure we're just jumping to conclusions. Beth hasn't had a nightmare in months, there's no reason to believe she's in trouble."

As they walked toward the house, Dean expected to meet Beth on her way to the shop. There had been no sign of her, though, which did nothing but increase his worry. It took very little time for the boys to reach Beth and Caroline's house. The small, pale blue cape was one of many in a neighborhood just outside of town. It was far cry from the home that Beth had grown up in. Her Aunt had sold that house shortly after Beth's parents had died. "We should probably look into Beth's old house. Make sure nothing weird is going on over there."

Sam smiled a bit, glancing up at Dean, and admitted, "I already checked it out. It seems clean, nothing before Beth's monster and nothing since. Whatever it was, I don't think it was tied to the house."

Not surprisingly, Sam's words did little to ease Dean's fear. As the two boys started up the front walk, he couldn't help but feel a stab at the sight of the perfect little house. Although, small in size it was so lovingly maintained it put the houses on either side to shame. The tiny front yard was clear of leaves and debris. The flowerbeds along the walkway, leading to the house, were neatly mulched and a small stone gnome sat amidst some late blooming mums, his chubby little hands crossed over his big belly. The front steps sported a recent coat of white paint and an array of well-worn patio furniture rested on the small wooden porch

Though money was scarce, Caroline had done everything she could to provide Beth with the security and stability she'd needed after her parent's death. Every inch of the property was a testament to Caroline's devotion to providing her niece with a home. Dean couldn't help but wonder what it would be like to live in a house like that. He found himself wondering if he would like the taste of normal or if it would choke him the way it now choked his father.

Though his dad never said it aloud, Dean was old enough to realize that John would never again return to the life he'd fled after Mary's death. That world held too much pain and longing. Everything John had seen and done over the years, made it impossible for his dad to seek refuge there. He stared at the house a moment longer as he questioned whether he could find himself a place in that world, or if it was already too late.

Dean pushed aside his musings and led the way up the steps. At the front door, he reached out and pressed the door bell. "Stop twitching, Sam, I'm sure she's fine." Dean reassured, as his brother fidgeted beside him.

Sam elbowed his brother in the side. "I'm not twitching. Do you think we should just go in?"

Dean considered for a moment, his first instinct was to break in and locate Beth as quickly as possible. However, Dean wasn't willing to risk the questions that action would bring, at least not without a good reason. One late morning just didn't qualify. So Dean did what he did best, he stuck to his training. He had been raised to avoid drawing attention to either himself or his brother, and breaking and entering would most certainly fall under the drawing attention category. So, Dean put aside his wants and waited. Brushing lightly against Sam, he said, "She probably just overslept."

A moment later the door swung open and Beth stood, framed in the doorway. She was pale and drawn, large shadows made the skin beneath her eyes appear bruised. Her smile was weak at best. "Dean, Sam, what are you guys doing here?"

Even Beth's response seemed somehow haggard. Dean smiled a bit, a trying to coax a return smile from the young woman. Instead, Beth stared at him, her hands thrust deep in the pocket of an oversized sweatshirt, her shoulders slumped in defeat. Surprised by her lack of response, Dean asked, "We came to see if you were feeling alright? We were supposed to meet at the shop remember?"

Beth's expression never changed. "Yeah, sorry I forgot. Did you need something?" Beth's voice trailed off, her gaze glued to a spot above Dean's left shoulder.

Dean was taken aback by Beth's lack of interest, unsure of what was wrong he tried a different tack. "You don't look so good, Beth. If you want, Sam and I could make you some lunch, and we could just hang out."

Dean didn't miss Beth's flinch in reaction to his offer. He felt his heart plummet and his anger grow as the young girl struggled to come up with a reason. Rather than listen to her lame excuse for why the Winchesters should leave, Dean struck first, "No, you know what never mind. Sam and I have some stuff to take care of." Without bothering to wait for a response, Dean turned and headed down the walk, Sam trailing after him.

888

Beth stood and watched Dean turn and leave, the moment his back was to her she allowed the tears to fall. Giving Sam one last watery smile, Beth shut the door on the two young men. Powerless to stop it, a sob tore through her taking the last of her strength. Unable to support herself any longer, she leaned against the door, bent her knees and slid to the ground.

She had honestly forgotten that she was to meet the guys at the shop this morning, she hadn't lied to Dean about that. As for the rest, what else was she supposed to do? Invite them both in, ask them to make themselves comfortable while she slowly went crazy. Or, well in this case quickly went crazy, because let's face it, the last time it had taken months for her to realize there was a problem.

Last time she'd spent over a month convincing herself that she was simply stressed. School, boyfriend, keeping said boyfriend, let's face it there was enough stress in the average teenage girl's life to cause a years worth of nightmares. This time, though, there was no doubt, there were no flimsy excuses she could offer up. She was crazy, there was something seriously wrong with her, it's the only thing that made sense. After all, everyone knew no one had entered her house that night and yet in the morning they were dead. Lack of forensic evidence might have been enough to spare Beth a hearing, but it didn't absolve her from the crime. No, it just mean it couldn't be proved.

And if, for even a moment, Beth allowed herself to believe she had killed her parents, while in some trance-like state, she wouldn't be the first person to admit it. Really, even the psychiatrist she'd been scheduled to meet had been willing to testify against her on the basis of her parent's word. Mentally unstable, had been the word bandied over and over again by the police.

Always before she'd able to convince herself it was just a dream. That someone had simply snuck into the house while the alarm was shut off and had left in the confusion the next morning. However, now, with the dreams beginning once again, just as she'd finally made peace with the past, it was too much to deny.

Beth slumped sideways to the ground, resting her cheek on the hardwood floor. Unable to stop the flow of tears, she used her sleeve to sop them up. She was just so tired and she didn't dare risk sleep. Even with Caroline safely out of the house, Beth was unable to close her eyes. What if, her mind argued, Caro came home early? Hell, what if Beth managed to sleep through the day, a likely occurrence given how tired she was, and Caro came home and went to bed? Beth couldn't go through it again. The walk down the hall, pushing open the door, the coppery scent of blood, the splatters that marred the soft amber walls, and at last her parents sprawled across the floor, their eyes empty and vacant. No, Beth wouldn't sleep, she couldn't sleep.

As she lay, she had a sudden urge to throw open the front door and bolt down the walk toward Dean. She wasn't sure why, but she felt as if he would understand. As if he too had seen and maybe even done things that had forever changed who he was. As if he would be the safe harbor, she needed. But, in doing so she would be putting Dean, and to a lesser extent Sam, in danger and that was something Beth wasn't willing to do. It obviously wasn't safe to be around her, and she wouldn't allow her selfishness to endanger anyone.

Problem was, she knew enough about Dean to recognize she had hurt him. While she was convinced there was no other choice, sending him off today had probably ruined their relationship forever. Although, Dean tried to hide it from the world, Beth knew he was insecure in his own way.

There it was, in one fell swoop, Beth was once again alone. Only this time she knew she needed to stay that way.

888

"Dean, slow down. Come on, please." Sam knew his brother was upset. Dean's jaw was clenched tight and his hands were fisted at his side. "Dean, I really think something's wrong."

"Grow up, Sam. That was your first lesson in what's called the 'blow-off'. She didn't want us there." Dean's voice pulsed with anger. "It's no big deal. We should be home training anyway. We've wasted enough time, School will be over soon, and we'll be moving out."

Sam struggled to keep up with Dean's longer legs, finally, he gave in to the inevitable and began to jog. "She didn't look good, Dean. I don't think she was blowing us off, something's wrong."

Dean stopped so suddenly, Sam was actually several steps ahead before he realized it. "Listen, Sam. I get that you're upset, but let's face it. There was no monster, at least not a supernatural one." Here Dean's voice faltered a bit, "I don't know what happened to Beth's parents and frankly it doesn't matter. Dad's right we can't afford any attachments. We're going to be moving on, we always do. It was stupid of me to think I could start something with Beth."

Sam nearly argued with his older brother's warped logic. He wanted to shout and rave at Dean, to force his stubborn brother to admit they did need other people in their lives. That it wasn't enough to just have each other. What stopped him was the knowledge that Dean wouldn't listen. Sam may have been young, but he knew enough to realize that Dean had put himself out there for Beth. He'd gone against his training and his instincts to reach out to her, and in turn she'd hurt him. There would be no going back for Dean, he would walk away from Beth without hesitation, but from here on out, he'd never again open himself up to that kind of pain. Unable to do anything else, Sam backed down and allowed Dean to deal with his disappointment. "Let's go home."

Dean took one last look in the direction they'd come from before nodding. "Yeah, kid let's go."

888

Dean had been silent all day and it was driving Sam insane. It wasn't as if Dean was normally talkative. In fact, his older brother wasn't given to mindless chatter or any kind of chatter. However, that didn't change the fact that Dean was never quiet. His restless nature wouldn't allow it. When forced into inactivity he responded in a variety of ways, he upped the TV volume, or the radio, depending on the circumstances, he tapped his fingers, he hummed, he sang, to put it mildly, he fidgeted. But since they'd come back from Beth's he'd gone directly to the closet and had removed one of the weapon bags that always sat ready. He had proceeded to spend the afternoon, cleaning, sharpening, and in general maintaining everything in the bag.

He made no noise, other than the steady rasp of the knife against the whetstone, and other than his hands, he was unnaturally still.

Sam sat at the table, an open book in front of him, and watched his brother through his heavy bangs. Dean wasn't alright despite what he pretended and Sam hated it. He pulled his gaze away from his brother and focused on the notebook before him. He had faith in Beth, and he knew he was right about her. The girl he knew would never have consciously hurt Dean without a good reason. In Sam's mind that meant something was wrong. He'd gone over Beth's case carefully and he knew in his heart it had supernatural written all over it. The worst part was, if he was right then Beth's sudden change of heart signified she was in trouble.

Sam toyed with the idea of bringing it up to Dean, but the look on his brother's face stopped him. On the off chance Sam was wrong and Beth was simply thoughtless or cruel, he didn't want to risk causing Dean anymore pain. Determined to learn the truth, Sam set himself to researching.


	9. Chapter 9

Sam suffered through Dean's silence for the rest of the weekend. Though he was tempted to try to convince his brother he was wrong, he knew it would be a near impossible task. He had learned early that Dean was nothing if not stubborn. Once he made a decision, it took an act of God to change his mind. Unfortunately, the little research Sam had been able to do had offered up no miraculous excuse as to what was wrong with Beth.

"Come on, Sam. We can't afford to be late to school," Dean called from the living room.

Sam threw a guilty glance over his shoulder, checking if Dean was still in the living room. Confident, for the moment at least, his brother was content to yell from the other room, Sam knelt down beside Dean's bed and reached a hand underneath. As his fingers closed around the familiar feel of the Maxwell can, Sam drew it out.

As he stared down at the can he held, he pushed away the feelings of guilt. Using the tips of his fingers, he pried the lid off and stared down at the crumpled bills within. Thecontainer was Dean's, the money inside had all been earned by his brother over the past couple of months. He'd earned it by doing odd jobs for Caroline at the store, helping John over at the garage and even shoveling out a neighbor's driveway. Every cent he'd earned was there and accounted for. Sam was certain Dean had never touched the money, he knew because he knew his brother.

The week Dad had left them without enough money for groceries had been a wake-up call to Dean. His brother knew money wasn't plentiful but that had been the first time the point had been driven home. Sam had been unsurprised later when Dean had begun saving every dime he could. As the wad of cash had grown, Dean had gone a step farther to make sure that Sam was safe. He'd spent one Saturday devoted to showing Sam just what to do in an emergency. Dean had shown him the can and had done a dry run with Sam on which bus was needed to get to Pastor Jim's. Sam hadn't needed Dean to explain that trouble meant child services, it was a fear that lived in both boys nightmares.

Now, here was Sam taking the money. He felt like a thief, he was a thief. Sam reached into the can anyway telling himself yet again that it was for Dean's own good. Determined to do what was right, Sam stuffed the bills into his pocket, replaced the lid to the can, and slid it back under Dean's bed. As he gained his feet, he once again pushed away the guilt and grabbed his backpack, heading toward the living room he began to run through his plan once more.

"About time, Sam. You know we can't afford to be late," Dean chided Sam as they left the apartment. "No screw-ups this week, we have to be perfect..."

Sam tuned out Dean's speech. He received the same lecture every time John was away. He was at the point where he could repeat it word for word. Murmuring responses at the correct time, Sam's allowed his mind to wander.

888

Sam continued down the street careful not to appear in too big of a hurry. After all, looking guilty would invite people to question why he wasn't at school. So far, everything had gone as planned. Dean had walked him to school as always, but, instead of heading to homeroom as he should have he'd managed to slip out the side door shortly before the bell rang.

Careful to take a different route than the one Dean would take on his way to the high school, Sam had headed into town. He needed a pay phone, preferably one with a phone book though it wouldn't be necessary. It took only ten minutes at a steady pace for Sam to find a phone booth complete with a phone book. Sam quickly set about finding the first cab company listed, dropping some change into the phone he dialed the number and waited.

Dean's careful lecture on what to do if separated had not only covered public transportation. Though, Sam doubted his brother had ever meant for him to use the lessons learned for quite this purpose. "Yellow Cab" a nasally voice soon answered.

Sam,carefulto speak in a deeper voice, said, "Yes, I need a pick-up on the corner of North Main Street and Pearce St, it's for my son." Sam was careful to give no more information, Dean always assured him that less was more. As the operator confirmed the address, Sam breathed a sigh of relief.

Not more than ten minutes later the yellow-cab pulled up to the curb, trying to mimic Dean's confident stride, Sam slid into the cab and gave the driver the address he wanted.

888

As the cab slid to a stop, Sam quickly paid the driver and slipped out the door. He hadn't wanted to risk walking even so short a distance, a lone kid out on the street during the day was sure to draw attention, but as he tipped the cabbie with Dean's hard earned money, Sam wished he could have simply walked.

As he approached the building before him, he set about trying to come up with a story that would allow him access to the Victorian house before him. He'd done some research into Fall River and he'd quickly determined that the Fall River Historical society was the best place to start his investigation. Though he'd seen pictures of the building, in reality it was much more beautiful than he'd expected. The imposing granite mansion sat on a corner. A decorative wrought iron fence surrounded the property enclosing the imposing three-story building. Built in 1843 it had been converted to the historical society in 1921.

Sam moved up the path, determined to find the information he needed.

888

Two hours later and ten dollars poorer, Sam left the historical society. Unconcerned with being seen this far from school, he took to the sidewalk. Blowing out a sigh, he barely noticed the beautiful homes he passed as he worked over all the information he'd garnered. He'd gone to the society because they claimed to be the foremost experts in the Borden murders. Expecting actual information, he'd instead been treated to a glimpse of the axe head that some believed killed Andrew and Abby Borden. Interesting in it's own way he guessed, but not a lot of help to him.

Sam had started out his day intent on linking the Borden murders with the murder of Beth's parents, instead it was nearing noon and he'd learned nothing of interest. Other than the death's themselves there seemed to be no connection between the two murders. He was running out of places to look, and had time for only one more stop before he needed to be back at school. If he wasn't out front when Dean arrived there would be hell to pay.

It took next to no time for Sam to arrive in front of the two-story box shaped house. Sam had read that the new owners were in the process of remodeling the home into a bed and breakfast. He could only imagine what his father would say to that. As if there wasn't enough reasons to be scared in this world, people loved to create more. As Sam stood,he took in the scaffolding that lined the side of the house. An array of painters were applying a coat of teal paint to the wooden boards that made up the house's exterior.

"Can I help you, Honey?"

Sam turned at the sound of a feminine voice behind him. There before him stood a woman, her long blond hair hung straight and her blue eyes crinkled in good humor. Sam felt a stab of panic at the woman's direct gaze. He was unused to having to lie, normally Dean or John came up with the lies and he just played along. "I was just watching the guys work."

The blonde smiled brightly. "This is my house, do you like it?"

Sam was careful not to seem too eager, he needed information but he couldn't risk bringing too much attention to himself. As it stood now, if someone decided to question his cover story, he was done for.

"It's really neat, I like the new color." Sam smiled brightly.

The woman chuckled, her eyes straying toward the bright teal color. "Yes, well it's probably not what I'd pick but it is authentic."

Sam turned toward the house and waited a beat, trying to play it cool. Finally turning to face the woman once more he asked, "What do you mean?"

"You must not be from around here if you have to ask. This is a pretty famous house."

Sam allowed a hint of curiosity to show through. "Really, why's it famous?"

The woman seemed to hesitate for a moment, before making a decision. "It's Lizzy Borden's house." Her eyes locked on Sam as if to gauge his reaction.

Sam figured she was waiting to see if he recognized the name, after all, the story of Lizzy wasn't exactly one that should be shared with a kid. He removed the worry though and smiled brightly. "Cool" Sam said, drawing out the word. "Do you think she did it?" Sam turnedto face the woman once more, "if she killed them."

The woman stared at the house for a moment before answering, "I don't think she did. I've been in the house a lot over the last couple months, it seems to me if she was guilty there'd be some type of unrest, and instead everything seems peaceful." Then she quirked an eyebrow at Sam her expression filled with amusement. "Unfortunately."

"Unfortunately?" Sam questioned.

The woman sighed as her expression became serious. "I'm converting the house into an Inn, I thought it would be fun. I was hoping to find some hint of paranormal activity, but so far it's been a bit of a bust." The woman shrugged as if to apologize for her truthfulness.

Sam thought over the owner's words, if his research was right, the woman he stood chatting with was Lee Ann Wilber. She'd owned the house for nearly a year now and was running a pretty heavy handed campaign in order to secure patrons. She'd recreated the house, as much as possible, with the help of the Lizzie Borden exhibit at the Historical Society. Her latest cross-country newspaper ads were offering a night's lodging in the room where Abby Borden died, not to mention a nap on a replica of the couch where Andrew had been killed

Although Sam couldn't understand why anyone would be interested, the Inn was already booked solid for the first three months. It looked like paranormal activity or not, Lee Ann Wilber was going to have her hands full. Unfortunately, all of this didn't help Beth. The fact that the Borden house and the house Beth had lived in were clean was so far the only connection and really a fairly weak one at that.

"Was the house furnished when you bought it?" Sam questioned.

Lee Ann turned to stare at the young boy, surprise evident on her face. Sam noticed and struggled to throw off suspicion. "I mean you said you converted the house, I was just curious if you have any of the Borden's stuff, cause that would be cool." Sam finished lamely.

Lee Ann's expression cleared and she let loose a snort of laughter. "Are you asking me if I found the axe? 'Cause I have to tell you that's the number one question I get asked. I think people figured she'd buried in the floor somewhere or else had stashed it in the walls."

Sam grinned and tried to nod sheepishly. "Yeah, I mean how cool would it be if you found something of hers, or like something that connected her to the murder."

"Well, sorry to disappoint little man, but we never found anything of interest. There were a few personal effects and those we donated to the Historical Society."

Sam nearly groaned in frustration, he'd already found out about the 'donations'. Apparently, when Lee Ann had purchased the property the only way the borough would allow the house to become an Inn was if they donated any of the Borden's personal property to the Society. Sam figured someone on the Society must have a pretty solid connection with city hall.

"Well, and the books of course."

Sam's gaze pinned Lee Ann where she stood. "Books?"

Lee Ann suddenly shifted her feet as Sam's gaze focused on her. "Books. Andrew Borden was an avid collector. He had a ton of first editions, rare and classic books. We found a large part of the collection tucked into a corner of the attic when we began the renovations. We boxed them up and auctioned them off."

Sam watched as Lee Ann began to frown, her cheerful open look was swiftly being replaced with aguarded frown. Sam had no trouble interpreting the look. She was becomingsuspicious, after all, what twelve year old would question a handful of books.

"Did someone local buy them?" Sam asked not even bothering to smooth Lee Ann's suspicions, after all he was fairly sure he'd learned everything he could from the owner.

"A local bookstore bought them. Don't you have school today?" Her frown was now firmly set as it seemed to occur to her thatshe'd just spent twenty minutes chatting with a kid on a school day.

Sam didn't even bother with a cover story he simply turned tail and ran. He didn't even slow as her shout echoed down the street. He'd done it, he'd found a lead and he had only a few hours to follow up on it. Determined to prove Dean wrong, Sam headed toward the library.

888

Sam didn't make it back in time, in fact, he was an hour late. He'd been so close to finding the information he needed that he hadn't watched the time. And now as he jogged toward the front of the school, the outline of his big brother standing all alone waiting for him, he knew things were going to be bad. He just didn't realize how bad.

Sam reached Dean's side a lot quicker than he'd have liked. In fact, as he drew close enough to read Dean's expression he considered using his knowledge of the bus lines to simply hightail it out of Fall River. As he came to a halt, he dropped his eyes unable to look at the shear terror that was rolling off of Dean in waves.

"Dean, I...I'm sorry I didn't mean-"

Dean cut Sam off with one word, "Don't"

Dean's tone allowed no room for argument. His brother simply turned and started down the street, his destination the apartment. Sam recognized the reprieve for what it was and used it. He spent the remainder of the walk alternating between stealing glances at Dean's set face and arranging everything he'd learned today so he could make his brother understand.

Sam followed Dean into the apartment. Once inside he turned to confront Dean, he needed to make him understand just why he did what he did. He needed Dean to see reason. "Dean, I'm sorry, but-"

Again, Dean cut him off. "I almost called Dad, Sam. Five more minutes and I would have. How could you do that, how could you be so irresponsible?" Dean's voice remained even, the only sign of his upset, his words. It was enough. If Dean had turned and hit him, Sam didn't think he could have felt any worse.

"Dean, please it was important. I needed to check-"

"Important?" Dean cut in. "So important you took off on your own? So important you left me no idea of where you'd gone." At last Dean's voice raised, his face only a hairsbreadth from Sam's. "I couldn't even call the cops. My baby brother goes missing and I can't call the cops. Can you even begin to imagine." Dean backed off, his struggle to re-gain control was obvious. "More important than letting me know where you are?" Dean breathed out.

Sam hadn't thought of that, he hadn't realized just what Dean would have gone through when he arrived at school expecting Sam to be there. Tears of shame and regret leaked from Sam's eyes as he struggled to find the words that would make this better.

Then Dean turned from him. "Just go to your room, Sam. Just go."

Sam went. Once in his room he dropped his bag and fell to the bed, silent sobs shaking him as the enormity of what he'd done hit him.


	10. Chapter 10

Fourteen. Fourteen steps took him from the front door to the kitchen counter top. Fourteen steps, not enough to really build up speed, but, for now it was the best he could do. Without pause, Dean continued to pace. He was determined to shake off the combination of anger and fear that had gripped him since he'd realized Sam wasn't coming out of the double glass doors of the middle school. He hadn't exaggerated just how scared he'd been. Dean's pace quickened. He had no doubt the fear was here to stay. It would be a long time before he could stand somewhere and wait for his brother without a sense of apprehension.

However, the anger, the urge to pound on something or at the very least shoot it full of holes, that was something he did have to get under control. Problem was, he couldn't leave. For the moment, pacing was about the best he could do.

Dean's glance flicked to his bedroom. He'd heard Sam crying earlier but the kid had quieted down in the last twenty minutes. He had almost certainly cried himself to sleep. That's probably why things had gotten so quiet. Dean stared hard at the **door **once more. Finally, he broke formation and on silent feet walked to the bedroom. Confident that he was overreacting he pressed one ear to the door and held his breath, and heard nothing.

"Shit," he mumbled as he turned his head, leaning his forehead against the wood. He figured he had two options, he could just assume Sam was in fact asleep on his bed, after having cried himself out. Or, the kid'd gone out the window, off to chase whatever 'lead' he thought he'd found. Sam could be the poster child for the saying 'curiosity killed the cat'. He never could let things be, he was always pushing for answers. Dean often wondered if Sam's drive to figure out the why wouldn't one day end up getting him killed. As he stood listening, he began to think that maybe today was that day. Cause, Dean was pretty sure if he opened the door and Sam wasn't passed out in bed, sound asleep, he'd be the one to kill him.

Scared of what he would find, Dean eased the door open. A soft sigh of relief escaped him as a beam of light from the open doorway fell across Sam's face. His baby brother had fallen across the bed, and from what Dean could see had indeed cried himself to sleep. Dean felt a tug on his heart as he stared at Sam. At that moment, all of his anger left in a rush, leaving him almost weak with relief that Sam was okay. Relief that his brother had simply done something dumb, rather than the idea that someone or even something had hurt him.

He eased inside the room and made his way to the bed. Sam lay on his side, on Dean's bed, facing the door, his arms wrapped tight around Dean's pillow. The position was all too familiar to Dean. Although, his little brother hadn't done it in years, Dean hadn't forgotten. Whenever the Winchester's lives had become too much for Sam to handle, he would find his way into Dean's bed, curl up on his side, and hug Dean in the same way. Dean drew a breath and moved around the bed. Grabbing the blanket off Sam's bed, he covered his brother and took a step back. He dropped down onto Sam's bed and watched the rise and fall of his brother's back. He was somehow soothed by the familiar sound of Sam's breathing. Maybe, because it was the first sound he heard when he awoke every morning and the last sound he heard each night.

A surge of weariness filled Dean, unable to fight it, he dropped his head in his hands. All weekend thoughts of Beth had overwhelmed him, making him wish his father had never brought them here. He hated himself for being weak, he knew better. Hell, if the family had a motto it'd be, 'Never get attached', not to people or places. John's only concession was for inanimate objects, those weapons that could always be counted on, and each other. Dean had been raised to believe that the only people he could trust were his father and his brother. Until Fall River, he'd never had a problem maintaining a safe distance from those around him, until Beth. She'd been the only one to get under his skin, there was just something about her. She was vulnerable in a way that he could relate to. Tragedy had struck her hard and fast, stealing away the life she'd known

Dean sighed and rubbed a hand through his hair, debating whether he should just cave to the exhaustion that gripped him. His fight with Beth hadn't been the only thing causing him to miss sleep. After school on Friday he'd gone to Wendell's to pick up John's pay only to find the shop locked up for the weekend. Then today he'd intended to go back but Sam had put an end to that plan. He was going to have to go directly there after school tomorrow as he was nearing the end of the cash John had given them. If he didn't get there soon he'd end up having to hit his emergency stash, he wanted to avoid that if possible. Even in the dimly lit room, the outline of the coffee can gave Dean a feeling of security. Regardless of John's pay, at least Dean knew his brother wouldn't have to go hungry.

Dean squinted a bit as he looked at the can illuminated by the light from the open bedroom door. Dropping off the side of the bed, he went to his knees and fished it out from under the bed. The anger he'd so carefully reigned in flared hot and bright as he noticed the plastic lid wasn't completely on. His hands fumbled as he pried it off completely and reached inside. It took only a moment to count the few dollars that were left. Dean's gaze shot up to Sam, who lay only inches away. He was suddenly afraid, afraid that if he didn't get away from Sam he was going to do or say something irrevocable. Dean shot to his feet, the can tucked tightly under his elbow. It took everything he had to shut the bedroom door quietly as he fled the room.

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"Beth, I'm home."

Beth's head snapped up as a burst of adrenaline spiked through her body at her aunt's voice. She struggled up and out of the rocking chair she'd been sleeping in with a lurch. Her muscles, stiff and sore from the hard wooden chair, screamed in protest as she gained her feet. She couldn't help but berate herself for falling asleep. It's just that she was so tired, mind numbingly tired. She had managed to keep herself awake all weekend long, taking naps whenever she could be sure her aunt was out of the house. She'd come to realize if she slept in the old wooden rocker in her room, she never slept deeply enough to dream. So far, it had worked, she hadn't dreamed in the last three days. However, she was quickly realizing that she could only stay awake for so long, after that, uncomfortable or not she was going to sleep and not wake up. She couldn't have that, she was too scared of what might happen.

Today at school, while she'd worked to avoid Dean, she'd come up with a plan. A temporary plan at best, but, at this point she couldn't afford to be choosy. Calling out, "Okay," she stretched, her nap had helped to clear away the cobwebs. At least she felt slightly more clearheaded and in control. Whatever was going on, she intended to keep Caro safe.

She gave herself the once over in the mirror, grimacing at the sight that greeted her. Her normally pale skin was nearly transparent with fatigue and the dark circles that lay under her eyes gave voice to just how much sleep she'd lost. She'd never make it past Caro's radar looking like this. She'd been avoiding her aunt as much as possible the last couple days, but that wouldn't work tonight. Beth took a moment to apply a little make-up, paying special attention to the circles under her eyes. Finally finished, she took a step back and studied her reflection. Satisfied that she looked a good deal better, she left her room intent on finding her aunt.

As she headed for the kitchen, she quickly decided on a plan of action. The way she figured it was, she couldn't hurt Caro if she wasn't here. She just needed to get out from under her aunt's watchful eyes without raising any suspicions. Beth rolled her eyes as she headed for the kitchen at the idea of hiding anything from Caro. Her aunt was nothing if not perceptive. Just before she entered the kitchen, Beth drew a deep breath and put on a weak smile. She knew it probably fell short of being a true smile but she hoped it would do.

"Hey, how was work?" Beth asked, as she glided toward the fridge she sneaked a peak toward her aunt just before she opened the door and bent to peer inside.

Caro paused in the act of sorting mail and glanced toward Beth a frown on her face. "Fine, I kept expecting you and the boys to show up. What's up?"

Beth stood before the fridge drawing a blank at what she should say. Careful to give no real thought to Dean and the pain she'd caused him, after all, she was trying to avoid crying, she straightened with a soft drink in hand and moved toward the cabinet where they kept the glasses. "The guys had some stuff to do after school." Beth hoped her aunt wouldn't notice the tremor in her voice as she spoke.

"I haven't seen them in a couple days. Is everything okay?"

Beth kept her back to her aunt, making a show of pouring the soda. "Sure." She almost offered more but she really had no idea what she could say. She'd spent the last couple of months spending nearly every free minute with the Winchesters, she wasn't surprised that her aunt had noticed their sudden absence.

Beth turned to face Caroline and sipped her soda. She had no trouble interpreting Caro's look, her aunt was about to start questioning and Beth really wasn't sure just how much she could take before she broke down. Choosing to take the offensive, she cut off whatever her aunt had been about to say. "Hey I was going to go out with..." Beth paused as she searched for a name, "Shelly, tonight. She asked if we could do a girl's night at her place. I know it's a school night, but I'm all caught up on my homework."

Caroline's eyebrows nearly lifted off her forehead in surprise. Beth could see that her words had driven all thoughts of Dean Winchester out of her aunt's mind. "Who's Shelly?" Caroline questioned, her voice laden with surprise.

Beth quickly went on the defensive. It wasn't often she played the teenager hand but when she did it always worked. Blowing out an exaggerated breath, she said, "I told you about Shelly, she's in my fourth period study hall." Beth ignored the wave of guilt that flooded her and rolled her eyes at Caroline's confused look. "I told you about her. Anyway, I told her I could go. I can, right?"

Caroline seemed unsure of what to say. Beth knew her aunt well enough to recognize the confusion, and really, she was justified, as Shelly didn't actually exist. Beth was fairly confident that Caro would say yes simply because it'd been so long since Beth had done anything so ordinary as a 'girl's night'. The last couple of months spent hanging out with two teenage boys in a bookstore didn't exactly scream normal.

"Sure, Honey. Of course you can go, just leave me a number, and stick to the rules," Caroline said as she studied her niece. Finally, she seemed to come to a decision. "I just have to ask. You're not meeting Dean tonight, are you?"

Beth couldn't stop the gasp of pain that escaped her, she quickly put her hand to mouth and coughed a couple times, trying to cover her lapse. "No, I'm not meeting, Dean."

Caroline seemed to weigh her words for a moment before nodding. "Fine, have fun then."

Beth breathed a sigh of relief as her aunt left the kitchen and headed down the hall. Quietly as she could, she grabbed out a white plastic grocery bag and threw a couple sodas in it, along with a breakfast bar and an apple. Provisions packed, she headed for her room, pausing only to put on a sweatshirt and throw a blanket into an old backpack. Shoving the shopping bag into the backpack, she quickly scribbled down a phone number on a scrap piece of paper. She felt her heart constrict in pain as she looked at what she'd written. The number belonged to Dean, it was one she knew well. Carefully she erased a couple numbers and replaced them. It was one thing for Caroline to call a number and find out it was no good, but if her aunt was to call the Winchesters and Dean answered, Caroline's good humor would go out the door.

Within minutes, Beth had left the number on the kitchen table and was headed out the door. She wasn't sure just what she could accomplish by leaving tonight but at the very least she was keeping Caroline safe.

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Beth leaned back against the concrete tunnel wall. Unsure of where to go, she'd headed for the one place she truly figured she'd be safe. The large concrete tube she now rested in was the same tube she'd first kissed Dean in. At first, she'd been sure the memories would be overwhelming, but, instead, she found herself comforted by the memories. It was as if he was still there wrapping her in his warm embrace. Although, she was sure she'd done the right thing in sending him away, it was a struggle maintain a safe distance. At school today, every time she'd seen him in the halls she'd wanted nothing more than to go to him. To have him pull her against him and solve all her problems, but he couldn't. Not this time. This wasn't some school bully he could run off for her, no, this problem was beyond Dean's ability to solve.

Beth scrunched down lower, and wrapped her blanket more securely around her. She didn't know where to go from here. She wasn't even sure what was wrong. The last couple of days she'd been careful to keep her mind off the problem. Instead, she'd chosen to concentrate on staying awake rather than worry about the why. However, here in the dark with no one to worry about, she began to question just what was going on. Though, the evidence pointed to her she still couldn't believe that she'd killed her parents in cold-blood. Tears began to slide down her cheeks as she struggled to find another explanation. There had to be some explanation for not only the on-going nightmares and her parent's death, but also the reason why it was all happening again?

Beth closed her eyes, content that here in the playground of her old elementary school it was safe to relax to let down her guard. As Beth drifted off, her body unconsciously trying to find a comfortable place in the concrete tunnel, thoughts of a pair of startling hazel eyes with long sweeping lashes were the images she chose to concentrate on as sleep at last claimed her.


	11. Chapter 11

Sam awoke to the blaring sound of the alarm clock. Out of instinct, he rolled left, his hand groping for the small, black digital clock that rested on the nightstand. Instead of his hand slamming down on the top of the clock, as expected, he found only air. With a yelp, he lost his balance and fell to the floor. Sam groaned in pain as he gingerly sat up. He had forgotten he'd fallen asleep on Dean's bed, rather than his own. Sam ran his hand through his disheveled hair and gained his feet. A glanced toward his own, neatly made, bed confirmed his suspicions that Dean had slept somewhere else. Sam clamored back across the bed and shut off the still blaring alarm, before settling cross-legged on the bed. As he drew Dean's pillow to him, he couldn't help but glance at the door. The fact that his brother hadn't slept in here didn't offer much support for his whole, 'I'm sure Dean'll be over it in the morning' wish. Somehow, in the light of day the idea didn't hold water.

Sam stared at the door for another moment, before he climbed off the bed. As he dressed, he turned over the plan he'd set-up last night. He knew that he risked pissing Dean off even more, if that was possible, but, he couldn't allow anything to happen to Beth. He'd gathered his backpack and was headed for the door when he remembered the money he still had in the pocket of yesterday's jeans. It took only a minute to find his discarded jeans and empty the pockets of the money he had left over. As he turned toward the bed, counting his money, he breathed a sigh of relief to see he'd only spent just over twenty dollars. Not bad considering all he'd learned. Sam knelt by the side of Dean's bed and reached beneath for the can. Panic began to claw at his chest as his hands groped nothing but air. Dropping to his stomach, he wriggled his way under the bed, regardless of the fact he could see the can wasn't under there. In fact, there was nothing under the bed.

"Shoot," Sam cursed as he laid his head on the dirty gold rug. He knew he'd put the can back yesterday and now it was gone. That could mean only one thing Dean had taken the can. Sam could only imagine his brother's fury when he opened the can and saw that a large portion of his savings was gone. Forget the fact that Sam hadn't spent much of it, Dean would still be disappointed in him. "Shit," Sam breathed again.

"Did you need more money, Sam?" Dean asked his voice lacking any kind of emotion.

Sam closed his eyes for a moment taking no comfort in Dean's calm voice. He knew that voice, it was the same one his brother used with their father when John was being particularly harsh. It was the tone Dean used when he was hurting. Knowing he had no other choice, but hoping the ground would swallow him up before he could, Sam scrambled out from under the bed and sat up to meet his brother's eyes. "I'm sorry, Dean." Sam offered the wad of cash he held in his hand out to his brother. "I was actually putting most of it back."

Dean nodded, his gaze pinned to a spot just over Sam's shoulder, and tossed the can he held in Sam's direction. Sam reached out and snagged the can, fumbling it only a little. Sam pried the lid off and was surprised to see just how empty it looked. Shame flooded him as he realized just how much Dean had probably panicked when he found the money missing. Sam knew that the can represented a small bit of stability in Dean's life. It was his brother's only defense against hunger or worse. Though he knew it wouldn't help, Sam couldn't help but try and reassure his brother. "I only borrowed twenty bucks, Dean. I'll pay it all back."

Dean didn't bother to acknowledge Sam's words, he simply turned and headed into the living room, calling over his shoulder, "Get ready for school, you can't afford to be late."

Sam stared after his brother, his eyes welling up. He knew he'd screwed up, he'd lost his brother's trust. With a swipe of his hand across his eyes, Sam grabbed his backpack and followed Dean out the door.

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"Here, I wrote you a note. You need to hand it in to the office this morning." Dean handed a folded piece of paper to Sam ignoring the tear tracks that made lines down his brother's face. Sam reached out for the paper, giving it only a cursory glance before tucking it into his school bag.

Before Sam could open his mouth, Dean turned and headed for the door, gathering his bag on the way. He knew that Sam felt bad, hell, he'd spent most of last night listening to Sam sob. The problem was, Dean was pretty sure that despite Sam's apology the kid was more upset over Dean's response than over what he'd done. Dean wasn't sure how to make Sam see just what'd he'd risked by going off alone yesterday. He knew he had no one to blame but himself. His father had told him time and again, he needed to back off a bit, let Sam have a taste of the real world. The problem was, Dean knew just how cruel the real world was and he couldn't bear to let his baby brother face it alone.

Dean figured he had two choices. He could do as his father suggested and back off, allowing Sam to either sink or swim on his own, or he could continue to shelter him. Dean snorted as he glanced back at Sam, who was only a few steps behind, as if he had a choice. There was no way he would be able to back off, taking care of Sam wasn't simply his responsibility it had become a part of who he was. Sam was the last truly good thing in his life and Dean intended to keep it that way. Too much had been taken from him, too much tarnished beyond recognition, he couldn't stand the idea of losing Sam as well.

"Pick up the pace, Sam," Dean called back as he headed toward school. Resolutely he pushed away thoughts of Sam and all that had happened yesterday and concentrated on what he was going to do if he couldn't get his father's pay from his work. He planned to take a run over there after school, before it was time to pick up Sam. He wasn't sure of what he would do if he couldn't get the money. They simply didn't have enough money to last them the next week or so. He vaguely wondered if his budding pool skills would be enough to let him scam a couple games. Up until now, he'd only played his father and though John was never one to throw a game, Dean still wondered if the few games he'd won weren't simply John taking it easy on him.

Dean's thoughts were interrupted as Sam hit him from behind, somehow managing to knock the book bag off Dean's shoulder. "What the hell, Sam?" Dean questioned as he managed to catch his balance before hitting the ground.

Sam's mumbled, "Sorry," and his subsequent fumbling with Dean's bag only served to increase Dean's ever-growing guilt. He couldn't believe it but he had a sudden urge to apologize to Sam for coming down so hard on the kid. After all, it was obvious Sam meant well. He'd only tried to help in his own weird way.

"No worries, Okay, Sam. Everything's fine. I'll head over to Dad's work this afternoon and get his pay, that'll take care of us and the rent till he gets back." Dean offered as he held out his hand for his bag. Dean wasn't sure why but Sam's expression seemed to crumble for a moment, before he got himself back under control. Accepting the bag that Sam handed him, Dean decided that maybe Sam had learned his lesson this time.

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Beth awoke to the sound of children's voices. Unsure of where she was, she forced her eyes open, and took stock of her surroundings. Crap, she thought as she closed her eyes once more. The concrete tunnel she'd spent the night in had left her feeling sore and if possible even more tired than she had when she'd fallen asleep. On the plus side, she hadn't had any dreams. Well, at least nothing she remembered.

"Hey, what are you doing in there?" a high-pitched voice asked.

Beth pried her eyes open again and stared into the obviously confused face of a young girl. The girl was probably no more than seven. Apparently, she'd climbed on top of the tunnel and was hanging over the edge peering upside down into the tunnel. Beth forced a grin and winked at the girl. "Nothing much just hanging out. Aren't you supposed to go into school?"

The girl's dark eyebrows met in a frown over her large brown eyes. "It's recess. Why aren't you in school?"

Beth gasped as she pulled back her sleeve and glanced at her watch. Sure enough, it was twenty minutes after noon. She'd slept the morning away. "Shit."

"You're not supposed to curse. I'm supposed to tell Mrs. Rodgers if we hear anyone saying bad words." The young girl studied Beth for a moment before asking, "Why do you have a blanket?"

Beth, though glad for the change of subject, wasn't sure how to answer. "Uh, I'm working on a science project."

The dark haired girl's face lit up with interest. "Really, science is my favorite subject. What are you doing?"

Beth just barely suppressed a groan as she struggled to come up with something that sounded even the least bit scientific. "It's a sleep deprivation study. I really have to go." As she began to gather up her stuff, she couldn't help but laugh at the idea of her doing a sleep deprivation study. After all, in the past year she'd learned first hand just what the effects of no sleep were.

The girl seemed a bit skeptical at Beth's answer. "If you don't want to tell me the truth you could just say so."

Beth rolled her eyes and scrambled out of the tunnel careful not to stand up as she exited. A careful scan of the playground showed two teachers standing with their backs to her as they kept an eye out on the kids. She knew she needed to get away unseen. Any one of the teachers would just love to question her as to why she was here rather than in school.

"Listen, I need to take off. Do you think you could distract the teachers for me?" Beth asked, not bothering to offer any excuse. She figured the less she said the better she'd be if she did get caught.

The young girl perked up at the mention of distracting the teachers. A wide grin spread over her face as she said, "Sure, no problem."

Before Beth could say anything else the girl hurried off toward the teacher. Beth ducked even lower, peeking over the rim of the cylinder. It took only a minute for her to catch on to the little girl's plan. The brown haired girl skipped past the teachers with a grin and a wave only to stumble and hit the blacktop with a cry that could no doubt be heard across town. Beth had to laugh as the girl, no doubt a budding actress, screamed and cried in pain, drawing all eyes on her small frame.

Beth quickly grabbed up her bag and made for the street. Once there she pulled up the hood of her sweatshirt and slowed her pace to a normal speed. She didn't want to risk drawing attention to herself. As she walked toward the high school, she debated whether she should bother going to school for the rest of the day. Already, she was going to have to come up with an excuse for being late, what did it really matter if that excuse covered the whole day.

It was the thought of seeing Dean, if only from a distance, that made her change her mind. Even if he wouldn't speak to her, just being near him would be enough to make her feel better.

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"Mr. Winchester, Mr. Winchester would you mind giving me your attention for a minute. I can assure you we've only gained a minute on that clock since the last time you looked."

Sam blushed faintly as he pulled his gaze away from the clock that hung above the classroom door. Ignoring his classmate's snickers, he focused once more on the woman that stood at the front of the classroom. "Sorry, Senora Fife," Sam apologized hoping he'd be let off the hook for his wandering attention. After all, he was normally a model student, and though learning to speak Spanish didn't hold much use for him he still enjoyed the class. As he had hoped, the teacher turned back to the blackboard and began conjugating verbs. Sam grateful he was off the hook chanced another glance toward the clock. Ten more minutes, only ten minutes until school let out and he could see whether or not this mornings Jerry Lewis impression paid off. He'd had only a split second to shove the file into Dean's bag, before his brother noticed. Before his brother noticed, Sam had to snort, it was a minor miracle that Dean hadn't noticed and even more that he missed Sam's reaction to Dean's apology. That's what killed Sam the most, not that he'd lied and manipulated his brother this morning, but that Dean had see Sam's upset and had tried to make him feel better. Dean's forgiveness had left Sam feeling lower than low, especially when his brother had mentioned the rent. Sam had all but forgotten that it was the quickly nearing the first of the month and he had little doubt that John had forgotten.

His only justification was that he truly believed Caroline and Beth were in danger. Sam had become too fond of the older woman to allow anything to hurt her. Also, he still had hopes that Beth and Dean would make up. He needed to make Dean see, and with his brother's stubbornness reaching an all time high, Sam had to resort to unusual tactics. He had four days left, only four days before the next full moon and he couldn't afford to waste anymore time. If Dean persisted in ignoring him, Sam would just have to take matters into his own hands.

As Sam again glanced toward the clock above the door, he couldn't help but offer up a silent prayer for anyone that might be listening. He had a feeling before this was all said and done with he'd need all the help he could get.

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"What do you mean you can't cash it for me? You always cash my Dad's checks." Dean couldn't stop from clenching his fists as he tried to keep his tone somewhat civil.

Alice Banning, the secretary that handled payroll, shrugged apologetically and said, "I'm so sorry, Hon. I explained to your father last week that I'm no longer allowed to cash employee checks."

Dean dropped his head in surrender, he had no doubt that the secretary had told John that. In fact, Dean was willing to bet she'd mentioned it more than once. The problem was, if it didn't involve a hunt or his never ending quest to find his wife's killer, then John simply didn't bother to pay attention. Sometimes Dean thought his dad would forget to eat and sleep if it wasn't for Dean reminding him.

Dean picked up the envelope that rested on the counter top and left the building without another word. Though he couldn't blame the woman for refusing to cash the check he couldn't help the anger that filled him. He'd finally gotten his father's pay and it was basically useless. Their father kept no bank account, choosing to stay off the grid and instead always cashed his checks. Without his father's pay, he had little idea of how he'd manage to get not only the rent money, but money for food as well. Once outside, Dean picked up his pace. He had told Sam, he might be a bit late, but after yesterday's nightmare he couldn't help but worry.

As he headed to the junior high, he couldn't help but laugh bitterly over just how bad this day had been. First, the mess with Sam had left him feeling guilty, frustrated, and sad. Then he'd managed to leave his backpack behind in his gym locker during first period. This in turn, had left him unprepared for his next class, causing him to stay late to beg an extension on his homework. Then of course, he was late for his next class. Things had only gone downhill from there. He'd ended up unable to get his bag back until his final class of the day. A quick trip around the school dropping off his homework had taken up the last ten minutes of his day. To top it all off he'd run into Beth, literally, as he'd left school. He had unintentionally bumped into her so hard her books had scattered across the lawn. Tempted though he was to just take off, he'd stopped and helped her up. With a hurried apology, he'd gathered up her books and handed them off to her all the while avoiding looking her in the face. Not bothering to say goodbye he'd left in a hurry. His normally complicated life seemed to have taken on epic proportions and he found himself, not for the first time, longing for just a bit of normal. Careful to put his game face firmly in place, Dean shrugged off his worries and continued on his way to Sam.

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Beth stared after Dean long after the boy was out of sight. Though she'd rather be tortured than admit it, she'd thrown herself in front of Dean, at the last possible moment, to try and force a meeting. It had backfired abysmally. Not only had Dean blindsided her, but even worse he'd completely ignored her. She knew that if Dean Winchester had run down anyone else in the school, with maybe the exception of Brittany, he would have shown more concern.

Although, she'd known what she was doing when she drove him away, it didn't mean she didn't regret it. She had no doubt she'd lost Dean forever. She'd broken his trust, something she had a feeling he didn't give lightly in the first place, and no matter her reasons things would never be the same.

Beth resolutely turned away from the direction Dean had disappeared to and headed for the bookstore. She was sure that Caroline would be waiting for her and she wanted to make sure her aunt suspected nothing. Beth began to toy with the idea of just leaving Fall River. After all, it was the only way she could guarantee her aunt's safety and honestly with Dean gone from her life, Caroline was all she had left. The problem was, Beth was all Caroline had left, and her sneaking out of town in the middle of the night would destroy her aunt. No matter how Beth looked at the problem, Caroline was bound to get hurt. Determined to keep her aunt safe, Beth began to plan her next sleepover. With a roll of her eyes, she wondered just how long she could manage to avoid sleeping in her own house.

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Sam watched as his brother approached at a jog. He'd been tempted to wait for Dean in the library, but had worried his brother would blow a gasket if he got to the school and didn't see Sam waiting for him. He made his way down the stone steps meeting Dean at the bottom. One glance at his brother's face was enough to make Sam sigh in relief. "Did you get Dad's pay?" Sam asked though by his brother's relaxed stance, he had no doubt he had.

Dean nodded and turned heading back the way he'd come. "Yeah, I got it covered."

Sam smiled and hurried his pace. He walked along side of Dean, glancing now and again at his brother's profile.

"Sam, if you don't stop staring at me, I'm gonna knock you into next week," Dean finally growled, his voice laden with irritation.

Sam stole another glance at his brother and muttered, "I'm not staring."

Dean snorted and rolled his eyes. "You are, Sam, and though I know I'm the good looking brother, you're gonna make me blush if you keep it up."

Sam couldn't help but grin at Dean's words. His brother sounded so normal, Sam couldn't help but be reassured. Deciding to just get it over with, Sam asked, "Did you see the folder I left you in your backpack?"

Dean's look of surprise was genuine. Sam couldn't help but wonder, how his brother had managed a full day of school without ever opening his bag. A hint of frustration tinted his voice, as he demanded, "How could you have missed it?"

Dean stopped on the sidewalk and stared hard at Sam for a moment. In fact, his glare was such that Sam couldn't help but squirm. "You left a folder in my bag?" Dean dropped a shoulder, allowing his black bag to slide down and into his hand. Sam watched as he unzipped it and began rooting around inside. Finally, he pulled out a folder depicting the cartoon characters Ren and Stimpey on the cover and turned to stare at Sam. "What the hell, Sam?"

"I just wanted you to look at it, Dean." Sam found he couldn't meet his brother's gaze. Dropping his eyes to the ground, he studied the sidewalk for a moment before continuing. "I know you don't believe me, but if you'd just look at what I found, I know you'd see I'm right." Sam gathered his courage and faced his brother. "Beth and Caroline are in danger."

Dean glanced from the folder in his hand to his brother before finally nodding. "Fine, I'll look when we get home. I just don't know what you expect me to do about it, Sam. Dad's not due back for days."

"I just couldn't let it go, Dean." Sam whispered as he fell back into formation beside his brother. He felt a world of worry lift from his shoulders, he knew that Dean would be able to help. Taking care of people is what Dean did best.

**Chapter End Notes:**

Just a quick note to say thanks for all the people reading and reviewing. Also, though the story is complete I will not be home to post any more chapters until Sunday evening. Sorry about that and thanks for your patience. - Kel ;)


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter Notes: ** To all that are reading I appologize for not posting sooner, I was away for a long weekend. I will however be posting once a day from here on out. This stoy is about 17 chapters total. Thanks for the great reviews and I hope you all continue to enjoy - Kel

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Dean sat, leaning forward, his elbows resting on his knees his head in his hands. He wasn't sure how long he'd been sitting, but he knew it wasn't long enough. He had taken refuge in the dimly lit living room hours ago when Sam had finally given in to exhaustion. He didn't have to glance to his left to know that the cartoon folder rested on the couch next to him. Hell, he had been the one to put it there after he'd read it for the sixth time.

Dean was drowning. He was like a swimmer caught in a rip tide. He new what he needed to be done, but found no matter how hard he tried he was slowly but surely being pulled out to sea. The fight to stay afloat was beginning to wear at him. Deep down he knew it was only a matter of time before the tide became too much and he went under.

Dean pressed the heels of his hands against his eyes, and drew a deep breath. He could do this, he told himself. He could, after all, if he didn't then who would? There was no one. John's call earlier in the day had done nothing to relieve his burden, if anything it had only added to them. His father had called to say he was following his lead and wouldn't be back for at least another week. Dean hadn't the heart to crush the hope he heard in his Dad's voice by telling him they were going to run out of money. If the lead his Dad was following helped him to find Mary's killer, Dean wasn't about to destroy his father's chance. John had left it to Dean to pay the rent, so he would pay the rent. It didn't matter that John hadn't anticipated on him having to earn the money. The cash he had left would see them through as far as food went. That meant all Dean needed to do was earn the rent money. Crap, Dean cursed.

The check he had tucked neatly into his wallet was, at the moment, worthless. His Dad was out of reach and would continue to be for a while. The rent had been due on Monday and though he knew he could get another day or two extension, he couldn't afford to have anyone realize that John wasn't home. Basically, it all came down to getting the money. Dean was sure that the lowlife landlord they rented from would ignore John's 'business trips' as long as he continued to get paid. It was what would happen if the rent didn't get paid that worried him. He couldn't afford anyone snooping around in their business. The tangled web of lies they offered up to the world couldn't withstand any kind of scrutiny. He knew he had little choice, he had to get the money, and he had to get it soon.

Dean straightened, picked up the folder that sat by his side and began sifting over the information Sam had gathered. Money he might not be able to do much about, hunting was another matter. He couldn't help but be impressed by the research Sam had done. Despite the cartoon folder and sloppy block writing, Sam's notes were neatly made and easy to decipher. From what his brother gathered, there were several common denominators between the two murders in 1892 and the deaths of Beth's parents. The original murder, though never linked to the Borden murder, took place six months before Andrew and Abby Borden were killed. It seems as if the police were right in that a vagrant was the most likely suspect. However, that is the last thing the police got right. Sam had learned that before Andrew Borden was killed, he'd gone to an estate sale at the murdered victims home. There he'd purchased several items. Lizzie's father had brought these items back to the house and had gone on about his business.

Weeks later, from all accounts, things in the Borden household became strained. Though, there were many theories the one common thread linking all of them was Lizzie's erratic behavior. The last clue, linking both the earlier murder and the Borden's, was the moon. Both murders had taken place the day after a full moon. Of course, none of these clues would add up to anything for anyone other than a hunter, and a thorough one at that.

Jumping forward to Beth's parents, Sam had found several similarities. The first being Beth's nightmares and erratic behavior due to her nightmares and lack of sleep. The second was the lunar cycle, the Walsh's had been killed the day after a full moon. The first full moon, in fact, after Mr. Walsh, Beth's father, had attended a sale at Lizzie Borden's house. A sale at which he'd bought several boxes of books. Books that had last sat on a bookshelf in the Borden house.

So, he sighed, they were looking for a book, one that most likely held the spirit of a pissed off murder victim from 1892. A book in the house of a bookseller, shit, Dean cursed. There really must be something in his father's theory that Winchester's don't catch breaks. Near as Sam could figure, they had two days to find the book and destroy it, otherwise, the spirit would most likely go after Caroline.

Regardless of the information, Sam had gathered, Dean still had trouble believing Beth's reaction to him was simply one born out of fear. If she were running scared, as Sam suspected, then why wouldn't she ask for help. Why send him away when he could help. Granted, Dean argued with himself, she didn't know that he could help, and most likely she didn't believe what she was seeing anyway. Well, whether she liked it or not, he would save her and Caroline. He owed them that much at least. Now, all he needed to do was figure out how.

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Beth stood on the sidewalk staring up at her house. The front porch light was lit and she could see a glow coming from the kitchen in the back of the house. The small cape with it's porch and pretty lawn made her ache to be inside. Her house, it's funny how quickly this had become her home. Caroline had realized that Beth would never be able to go back to the house where her parents had died. Though they'd never discussed it, Caroline had sold the home within weeks and had purchased this cape. Even though she knew that money factored into Caroline's choice, Beth also thought her aunt had picked this house because it was so different from the one she'd grown up in.

Beth knew she couldn't avoid it any longer, her phone call earlier to let her aunt know that she was going out after school with a friend had bought her an extra bit of time, but it wouldn't last. Caroline wasn't going to be put off by many more excuses. Beth's sudden influx of friends had no doubt sent Caroline's mothering instincts into full throttle. She had no doubt her aunt was wrestling with her conscience. Caroline while thrilled Beth was again beginning to fit in, was no doubt equally pissed that the girls now claiming to be her friends were ignoring her at best only a month ago. Beth snorted, it would be touching if there actually was a sudden throng of girls trying to befriend her. Instead, it was just another lie. As if her dreams weren't enough she was trying to walk through a minefield of lies to keep her Aunt from guessing anything was wrong.

Beth shivered in the cool night air, as she considered just giving up. She could walk inside right now, explain to her aunt about the nightmares, and ask her for help. She had no doubt Caroline would take immediate action. Her aunt would stop at nothing to get Beth help. Problem was in the mean time she was scared of just what would happen while Caro tried to get her help. Beth could not risk it. Caroline was all she had left, she wasn't willing to put her aunt's safety on the line. Drawing a deep breath, Beth squared her shoulders and headed into the house prepared to do battle, or well at least to be interrogated.

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Dean eased open the bedroom door and glanced toward Sam. His brother had gone to bed hours ago. Worn out from the night before he'd collapsed on the bed around eight and hadn't stirred since then. Dean on the other hand had spent his time coming up with a plan. Well, actually a couple plans. First and foremost, he had decided that he needed the money for the rent. He knew that left Beth in danger another night, but he really had no choice. Sam was confident the sprit wouldn't attack before the full moon, and Dean had no trouble putting his faith in Sam's information. Hell, even the old man trusted Sam when it came to research.

So, tonight, Dean would solve their money problems and tomorrow night he'd take care of Beth's ghost. Dean carefully picked up his jacket from where he'd left it lying on his bed and grabbed the coffee can from where it sat on the night stand. Though, he hated the idea of leaving Sam alone, at least here in the apartment he'd be safe. The salt lines were in place and Sam knew where the weapons were kept. As he turned and headed out the bedroom door, he pulled a bright yellow piece of paper out of his pocket and taped it to the doorframe. He was confident if Sam did wake up, he'd see the note. Dean watched Sam sleep for another moment before stepping out of the room.

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Sam sat up in the dark, unsure of what woke him, and listened. A glance toward Dean's bed showed him his brother wasn't in there. Sam frowned, he and Dean had spent nearly two hours going over all the information he'd found. Finally, unable to keep his eyes open any longer, Sam had headed to bed. Dean had said he'd be in shortly, but from what Sam could see, his brother's bed hadn't even been slept in. Sam slipped off the bed and on silent feet moved toward the door. He had no trouble finding the bright yellow note taped to the doorframe. Unable to read it in the dim light, he pulled it down and headed for the living room. It wasn't the first time he'd awoke to find a note from his brother letting him know he'd stepped out. It didn't happen often, but every now and then Dean simply couldn't settle down. Usually on those nights, he'd take a walk around the neighborhood, rarely venturing more than a couple blocks away. When John was away Dean's walks became visits to whatever served as a laundry room, for whatever dive they happened to be living in. Though, Sam had assured his brother many times that he was more than capable of staying by himself, Dean refused to leave the building.

Sam walked to the couch and turned on the light before dropping down on the ratty sofa. He stifled a yawn and rubbed his eyes before attempting to read the note. He already knew what it said, Dean was probably down in the basement of the building right now dying Sam's socks pink. Sam still didn't understand how Dean managed to turn all of Sam's underwear and socks pink, and never his own. He couldn't help but question Dean's theory of the phantom red sock that was stalking Sam's whites. However, he kept his doubts to himself less Dean decide he wouldn't wash Sam's clothes anymore. Sam was no fool, he knew that pink underwear far outweighed doing his own wash.

At last able to focus, Sam read the note. Then he read it again to be sure that what he read the first time was, in fact, a figment of his imagination. When he saw that it wasn't, he read it again just to be sure. The hand that held the letter fell to his side and for the first time, Sam felt a shiver of unease sweep over him at the idea that he was alone. His brother had left. He wasn't down in the basement of the building, he wasn't out on the fire escape, on what Dean referred to as the veranda. Sam looked at the letter again, sure he'd misread some part of it.

'Sam, I needed to run some errands and didn't want to wake you. I'll be back before morning, but if I'm not you know what to do. See you in a bit.' It had been signed with his brother's distinctive signature, but still Sam couldn't help but study the writing to verify it was Dean's. What could he be doing in the middle of the night? Fall River wasn't that big of a town and Dean was on foot, there was only so much open at such a late hour. Sam shook off the panic that kept trying to get a hold of him and tried to look at this rationally. Maybe, he thought to himself, Dean had decided after reading Beth's file that he could forgive her. Maybe he'd gone to her house to make amends for assuming the worst. Sam couldn't help but grin, he had to admit one small part of why he'd gone to such lengths to research the murders was to prove to his hardened big brother that Beth did care for him. Beth was good for Dean and Sam wasn't above manipulating his brother in order to bring them together again.

Sam felt the tension leave his body. As he drew in a deep breath, he stood and headed back for his bedroom. Though, he knew he'd be unable to get back to sleep until Dean came home, at least he could make himself comfortable. Once in his room he swiftly gathered Dean's blanket and pillow and trudged back out to the living room with them. Tossing the pillow on the armrest, Sam followed it down and soon had himself tucked in. He lay facing the door, the lone side table near his head. Reaching up, he intended to turn off the lamp that rested on the table but stopped as he noticed a familiar brown square on the tabletop and the now hateful coffee can.

One look quickly confirmed that only a few dollars were left in the tin. With a shaking hand, Sam reached out and picked up Dean's wallet. Made of faux leather, it was starting to show signs of wear. The wallet was as familiar to Sam as it was to Dean. After all, he'd been the one to give it to him three years ago for Christmas. His brother had been thrilled with the gift, he never forgot it or left it behind. Now here it sat.

Sam carefully opened the wallet and stared at the contents inside, knowing what he would find. Often on long car drives, Dean would hand the wallet over to Sam and he would pass the time by going through the contents of Dean's life. The wallet was a bi-fold. Inside where the cash was kept, there was a crumpled looking five-dollar bill and a slip of paper carefully folded. Sam didn't bother to unfold the paper, he already knew what it was. Last year, Sam had been part of the Christmas program at the school they'd been in. He had been the ghost of Christmas past in a school wide production of A Christmas Carol. Dean hadn't kept the whole program he'd just saved the page his brother's name was listed on.

Next, Sam carefully flipped up the leather protector and stared hard at the driver's license. It read that Dean Winchester was sixteen, though Dean's sixteenth birthday was actually still a two months away. Though, John rarely let Dean drive in the city, his brother had already logged hundreds of miles crisscrossing the country. Next to the Impala itself, the license was Dean's most prized possession. John had given it to him three years ago. They'd been on a desert road in Utah, surrounded by nothing but sand and more sand. John had pulled to a stop and turning to a then thirteen-year-old Dean he'd told him to get out. Unsure of what was going on, Dean complied only to watch their father take his place in the passenger seat. Sam could still remember Dean's smile, at that moment it had rivaled the sun. Once settled into the driver's seat, John began to teach Dean to drive. Later that evening, long after the lesson ended they'd been camped out in some crappy motel. John had gone for dinner, leaving the boys to occupy themselves. He'd finally returned bearing not only their next meal, but a Kansas license with Dean's likeness proclaiming him to be sixteen. Before giving up the tiny rectangular card, John had made Dean promise only two things. The first, that he would only drive in emergencies or when John gave his permission, and the second that Dean stay off the grid. John hadn't wanted Dean using the ID except in emergencies.

Sam also knew from experience that behind the license were three pictures. One of Sam and the mother he couldn't remember. The picture was nearly perfect, you could barely see where the heat of the fire had singed one side. The next picture was one of Sam on his own. He'd been maybe four, and though he couldn't remember the day itself, Dean had told him about it often enough for it to seem like a real memory. The picture was of Sam on a pony at some local fair. Apparently, John in a rare mood had taken the boys to the fair and they'd spent the day like a normal family. When sitting in the backseat of the Impala on their way to another nameless town, Sam often replayed Dean's words in his mind, trying to relive that day in his head. Sometimes he wished the memory was his own, rather than something seen through Dean's eyes.

The third picture was also one that had survived the fire. It was the picture that Sam valued most. Dean had promised, once Sam got his own wallet he could have it. The picture, though a little worse for wear, showed a proud Dean at the age of four, holding Sam in his arms. The setting was obviously a hospital, and judging from Sam's wrinkled countenance he would only have been a day or so old.

Sam didn't bother to pull out the pictures, he'd seen them a million times. It was the sight of John's paycheck tucked into the billfold that caught Sam's attention. What bothered Sam the most is the fact that Dean had lied to him. Well, okay not lied exactly but he sure as hell hadn't been truthful. Earlier in the day when Sam had asked if Dean had gotten John's pay, Dean had said everything was taken care of.

Sam turned the wallet over and over in his hands worrying the soft leather. Dean had gone to hustle money, there was no other conclusion Sam could come to. His brother had left the wallet behind so he couldn't be identified. Dean's letter to Sam and his reference to what Sam should do if Dean wasn't there in the morning suddenly became overwhelmingly significant. Sam knew the drill, Dean had made sure of that. If Sam awoke and Dean wasn't here, it meant school as usual. However, if by the time school was over and his brother was still missing that meant run. Run far, run fast, and run smart. Run far meant Pastor Jim's place in Blue Earth. Run fast meant, gather up only the essentials and head out right away. Run smart meant spend as little time as possible in the apartment. If Dean had been picked up by the police or worse it would take little time for someone from child services to decide that Sam also needed to be checked on.

Sam stared at the note for a moment more before heading for the bedroom. He'd bring everything with him to school tomorrow that way if by some chance Dean didn't show. Sam stopped the thought before it when any farther. Dean would be home by then, Sam assured himself.

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I can do it, Beth thought grimly, as she shifted on the hard wood floor, I can stay awake. It's only one night, not like she hadn't done it before. Hell, she'd lived for a month without sleep, what was a single night. Beth unable to come up with a feasible lie to tell her aunt, had decided to stay home tonight. Though, she'd been extremely uncomfortable last night she had managed nearly six hours of sleep. She figured that had to count for something. So, she'd dropped to the floor at the end of her bed, turned the TV on low and decided to wait it out. Maybe, she figured, she could somehow sleep every other night. That would help to cut down on the lies she spun for Caroline.

After tonight's performance, Beth would do just about anything to cut down on the lies. Her aunt though sure something was wrong had finally given up the interrogation, after Beth let is slip that her and Dean had broken up. Beth figured the pain her aunt read on her face was enough to make Caro realize just how much Beth was hurting. It had definitely helped her cause, not that the pain had been faked. Dean had been the only person to reach out to her in so long Beth had nearly forgotten what it was to be a part of someone else.

Beth welcomed the ache in her tailbone cause by sitting. Anything that helped her keep her eyes open was welcome. Determined to stay awake, she settled in for the long night ahead.


	13. Chapter 13

Sam lay, fully dressed, on the couch staring sightlessly at the door. He'd spent the night trying to prepare himself for the worst. He knew what needed to be done, but the idea of just abandoning Dean was killing him. Every lecture he'd ever received from both his father and, more importantly, his older brother had been leading up to this moment. Logically, Sam knew it was for the best. It would be no good for him to become involved with child services. Though Dean was quickly approaching adult-hood, Sam was still young enough to end up in foster care.

The problem was, when Sam considered his brother holed up in some juvenile detention center he lost his will to leave. In fact, the thought of it made him feel like throwing up. Knowing that Dean expected him to leave town at the first sign of trouble did nothing to ease the panic, it only added a dose of guilt.

Sam was suddenly furious with their father. He was the one that was supposed to watch out for them. He was the one that should be working to pay the rent and buy food. It was wrong that his fifteen-year old brother was hustling pool so they could survive. Sam didn't know much about normal but he was sure of that at least.

Sam's emotional rollercoaster came to a halt when he heard the sound of a key in the lock. He pushed himself up to a sitting position and put a hand on the rifle that rested next to him. Careful to keep the gun close, but hidden, Sam waited and hoped.

A dark shadow slipped into the room. Sam let loose the breath he was holding when he recognized his brother's familiar shape. Off the couch and across the room in a flash Sam barreled into his big brother, wrapping his arms tight around Dean's middle.

"Whoa there. What's wrong?" Dean asked as his arms closed around Sam.

For a moment he could do no more than hold tight, needing the reassurance that only Dean offered. Finally, sensing that he was beginning to panic his brother, Sam stepped back and wiped at his face. With a shrug of his shoulders he said, "Nothing, I woke up and you were gone. I was worried."

"Why were you sitting here in the dark?" Dean asked as he moved to switch on the table lamp.

At the sudden warm glow every last trace of fear disappeared. Some people would have assumed it was the light that eased Sam's panic. In reality, he knew it was his big brother who had dispelled his fears. For Sam, Dean was the light in the dark, he always had been. Sam smothered the urge to hang on to Dean and instead settled on the couch waiting for his brother to face him. "Where'd you go?"

Dean turned toward Sam, the faint light from the lamp illuminating his face. Sam gasped in shock at the sight of his brother's right eye. Swollen nearly shut, only a gleam of Dean's bright green eye was visible. The skin around the socket was such a deep purple it looked nearly black in the dim light. Plus, his upper lip was cracked and there was a smear of blood on his chin. It looked as if he'd used his sleeve to mop up the blood from his lip.

Instinctively, Sam jumped into action. Up and off the couch, he put one hand on Dean's chest and shoved his brother down onto a cushion before continuing into the kitchen. He opened the freezer door and retrieved the ice pack that was kept there for just such emergencies. Then he fished the first aid kit out of the cabinet next to the fridge. Carrying both items back to the couch, he handed the ice pack to Dean and took a seat next to him.

"I'm fine, kiddo. Nothing a little ice won't fix," Dean assured Sam as he placed the pack on his swollen eye.

"What happened, Dean? Where did you go? Are the police coming?" Sam fired questions at his brother as he opened the kit and pulled out an antiseptic wipe. Gently dabbing at the cut on Dean's lip, Sam blinked back the tears that threatened to overflow.

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Dean heard the trembling in Sam's voice and realized the kid was near tears. Unsure of what had set him off, Dean gently pushed Sam's hand away from his lip. In all honesty, he appreciated his brother's concern but the kid was killing him. His lip ached even worse than his eye and Sam's unsteady hands weren't helping.

"Easy there, Nurse Nightingale. I'm fine, really." Dean eased back in his seat and dug deep in the pocket of his jeans. With half a grin, all his split lip would allow, Dean tossed a wad of cash down on the couch cushion near Sam's knee. "Look at that, Sam. That's not only enough to pay the rent, but we'll be able to eat like kings for weeks." A feeling of relief, unlike any he'd ever felt before, filled Dean. He now knew he could take care of his brother no matter what. No longer would they be dependant on Dad or the occasional odd job. His little brother would at last be safe.

"Dean, where did it come from? What did you do?" The awe in Sam's voice caused Dean to beam with pride.

"I did it, Sam. I won it, I won it all. Nearly six hundred dollars." Dean relaxed and tilted his head back allowing the ice pack to rest on his eye. "Do you know what this means? I'm good enough, we don't ever need to worry about running out of money again."

"You won it how, Dean? I don't understand."

Dean reacted to the sound of panic in Sam's voice, lifting the ice pack and his head he met his brother's gaze. "Pool, Sam. I went over to that bar on 57th street. I got in no problem, they didn't even check my ID." Dean's voice warmed as he leaned back and put the ice pack on once more. "Anyway, I was there nearly an hour before a bunch of college guys came in. You should have seen them, Sam," Dean sneered and then winced at the pull on his lip. "So full of shit they practically stunk, I guess they figured I looked like an easy mark." Dean laughed at the idea of any Winchester being an easy mark. "Dumbasses didn't know when to quit, the bet just kept growing and growing."

"I don't understand, who beat you up?"

"This?" Dean asked waving a hand in front of his face. "This is nothing, after the game ended the guys figured they didn't have to pay up cause of my age." Here Dean couldn't help but grin in spite of the pain. "I changed their minds."

Dean relaxed back into the couch a feeling of peace stealing over him. After tonight's victory, he was sure tomorrows hunt for Beth's creature would be a breeze.

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Sam sat next to his brother and watched as Dean's breathing eased. In the minute it took for the older boy to succumb to sleep, Sam found himself more awake than ever.

His brother's reassurances that everything would be fine rang hollow with Sam. Though, Dean and his Dad tried to hide it from him, Sam understood the dangers of hustling. He'd never forget the first time he'd seen his Dad banged up from a game that had gone sour. Regardless of the fact that John had walked away from the fight the winner, Sam had been shocked to see his father battered from the brawl. His Dad, the man that faced down werewolves without flinching, had been worked over by a bunch of drunks.

Ever since, Sam had watched and waited in fear every time he knew his dad was hustling. Now, it was Dean, his brother putting himself at risk. Sam stared at Dean for a moment more before he picked up his discarded blanket and settled it about his brother. Shifting slightly, Sam pressed up against Dean's side and settled his head on his big brother's shoulder.

Dean mumbled something and wrapped an arm around Sam, pulling him closer. Sam relaxed against Dean's side and closed his eyes. It was a long time later before he finally succumbed to sleep.

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She sat on the floor, her eyelids fluttering, her breathing shallow as she fought sleep. Standing sentinel in the corner of the room, he watched the rise and fall of her chest. How he longed to touch her, to feel her smooth skin beneath his fingertips. He knew he couldn't, at least not yet, she had made him promise. The thought of breaking his word was enough to bring tears to his eyes. He loved her too much to ever consider hurting her and she had assured him that his touch would bring her nothing but pain. Sometimes, though, the promise became too much to bear and then he was forced to come to her at night.

Reaching out with one hand, he caressed her as she drifted off to sleep. He drew strength from the feel of her alabaster skin and her beautiful curly blond hair. His touch faltered for a moment as he focused on her sleek, red-gold hair. Confusion knitted his brow as he stared at her trying to remember. No, he was wrong, of course her hair wasn't blond. The coppery color of her sleek locks that shined like a beacon in the dim light was just perfect.

Unable to be together in public, these nightly visits were the only thing that gave him hope for the future. Soon they would be together forever. He gazed down at her beauty, captivated by the way her eyelashes swept the freckled skin of her cheeks. He blinked and found himself lost as he looked at the smattering of freckles that dusted the golden tone of her skin.

His train of thought stalled for the moment. He stared hard, gripping his head in his hands as he pushed away his doubts. It didn't matter, he told himself, she had vowed to be his. He needed only to remove the obstacles that stood in their way. Her family refused to believe that they belonged together. Her father had gone so far as to forbid her from being with him.

Rage filled him as he reached out to touch her satiny skin. A single caress down her cheek and a promise to return were the most he could do for now. The time wasn't right yet, she'd been the one to make him understand. One last caress and he left her side. Soon, they would run away together, the rest of their lives would be spent loving each other.

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Beth awoke with a gasp. Up on her feet in one swift movement she glanced around the room, her heart racing in panic. Though nothing seemed out of the ordinary, she couldn't shake the feeling that someone had been in her room. Beth didn't bother to search. She knew she wouldn't find anything, she never did. What she did do was leave her room on silent feet. As much as she was frightened of what she'd find, she needed to check on her aunt.

Down the hall she went until she stood in front of Caroline's door. She rested one hand on the wood and waited a moment gathering her courage. Part of her wanted to run from the house, never to return. She actually stepped back at the thought, poised to run. If she left now she could live with her allusions, if she opened the door there would be no escaping the reality.

"Beth, honey? Is something wrong?"

Beth turned with a cry at her aunt's voice. Without thought, she threw herself down the hall into Caroline's surprised arms. Holding the older woman tight against her, Beth began to sob. As determined as she'd been to face this alone, she could no longer deal. If she was going crazy she needed her aunt now more than ever.

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"Up and at 'em, Sam."

Sam rubbed his eyes, struggling to push away the lingering fog of sleep. A glance around the room reminded him that what little sleep he'd gotten had been on the couch.

"Come on, Sleeping Beauty, we've got school in an hour."

Sam winced at Dean's chipper voice. "What's with you, Miss Mary Sunshine?"

Dean turned from the kitchen counter and placed two plates on the table, the grin on his face only accentuating his shiner. "What's with me? Waffles are what's with me. Now, come on, get over here and eat before they get cold. We really can't afford to be late to school."

Sam struggled up and out from beneath the blanket and shuffled his way toward the table. There perched on the two plates, was a mound of waffles. A bottle of syrup and a jug of orange juice rounded out the setting. Stifling a yawn, Sam slumped down in a chair and asked, "Where'd we get waffles?"

Dean dropped down next to his brother and poured both himself and Sam a glass of juice. "I went down and paid the landlord today and then hit the store."

Sam looked down at his watch and noted the time. "It's the buttcrack of dawn and you went shopping?"

Dean tipped the bottle of syrup over his waffles and poured a hefty amount all over the golden discs. "Yup, and I loved every minute of it. I gotcha ding-dongs for your lunch, I know how much you love 'em."

Sam watched his brother for a moment taking in Dean's relaxed bearing and quick grin. Dean looked younger than he had in ages. Despite the damage to his face, he looked carefree and content. No matter how much Sam hated the fact that Dean had put himself in danger, he couldn't deny that his brother was happy, truly happy for the first time in a long time.

Finding that his brother's lightheartedness was contagious, Sam couldn't help but tease, "Man, I don't know what you put in your coffee but whatever it was you should do it more often. This Alice routine sure beats cold cereal and your normal nasty growl."

Dean grinned, wincing only slightly at the pain from his lip, and held out his hands. "Never underestimate the power of a good meal, Sam."


	14. Chapter 14

Sam glanced at his watch again and slammed the door to his locker in frustration, this day was now officially crawling by. He was only a quarter of the way through school and he'd already been reprimanded at least four times for his lack of attention. He couldn't help himself, his mind kept drifting to the file he had tucked into his backpack. The plan, as Dean had explained it, was to head for Caroline's tonight under a cover of darkness to go through the stacks of books she had at their house.

Sam, through process of elimination, had managed to narrow the search down to seven possibilities. The same seven books had been sold as part of a lot to both the Borden's and Beth's father. The connection was weak at best but Sam had little else to go on. Plus, he knew for a fact that Caroline had been in the process of sorting through some of Mr. Walsh's books, in order to put them on sale, earlier this fall. Hell, Dean had helped to load some of them into the car for her. Sam figured the spirit had to be attached to the book, so it stood to reason the book was still in the house somewhere. As an added pressure, he was pretty sure either tonight or tomorrow night the spirit would be able to fully manifest.

Sam banged his head against the closed locker in frustration. He felt like he needed to be doing something, well something other than wasting his time in school. It wasn't even as if he could concentrate. But, when he'd suggested to Dean that they cut, his older brother had been quick to point out that Sam'd already skipped once this week, twice might be commented on.

"Winchester, you're wanted in the office."

Sam turned and faced a familiar looking brown-haired boy. "Why?"

The kid shrugged as he continued down the hall. Calling over his shoulder, he said, "They didn't tell me why, just to find you."

Sam watched as the crowd of students jostling their way to class swallowed up the boy. An uneasy feeling was beginning to build within him as he hitched his backpack onto his shoulder. The walk toward the office seemed to both take forever and end too quickly. As he stood, his hand on the doorknob of the office, he considered just taking off. He had never been hauled into the office before and he really couldn't see how this could be good. Over the course of his education he'd been questioned by various guidance counselors intent on questioning him about his life but they were neatly and easily dealt with. Sam'd learned just what he needed to say to deflect the endless round of questions they asked without ever letting them know he was deflecting. It was a talent that Dean had mastered years ago and had passed on down to him. However, the office wasn't the guidance counselor, the office was the principal or vice principal, as the case may be.

While he stood debating the pros and cons of entering the office the choice was taken from him. The door handle he'd been holding suddenly turned on its own, causing him to nearly fall inside the room, surprising his math teacher who'd been leaving. Stammering an apology, Sam nearly turned and followed the teacher back out.

"Sam Winchester?"

Sam winced at the sound of a woman's voice announcing his name for everyone to hear. Turning, he found the secretary staring at him her expression full of sympathy. "Yup," he answered his feeling of dread growing into panic-like proportions.

"Mr. Clemmons needs to speak with you in his office."

Sam nodded and gave the woman a weak smile as she gestured toward the a plain wooden door. Knowing he had no choice, Sam headed for the office his mind spinning with all the ways he could avoid taking a ride with child services.

888

Dean kept his façade in place as he watched his brother enter the office. Sam's panic was only thinly veiled at best, though, Dean was sure he was the only one that would recognize it. He sat slightly to the right of the door and upon entering Sam didn't even notice him sitting there. He couldn't afford to have the kid break their cover story without realizing it, so he needed to meet his brother's gaze before the man behind the desk said anything. Standing up, he was glad to see Sam catch the movement out of the corner of his eye. As expected, he turned to face Dean his eyes widening only slightly in surprise at finding his older brother in the office.

For a moment they stood, gazes locked. Each one communicating all that needed to be said in one long glance. Sam's eyes radiated his worry and in return Dean's gaze commanded him to be cool and all would be well. Finally, Sam gave a nearly imperceptible nod and turned toward the principle with an inquiring look on his face.

Dean had been pleasantly surprised at just how compassionate the principal of the middle school had been. Especially when compared with the principal of his own school. Clemmons gestured for Sam to take a seat next to Dean. As Sam sat, the principal studied his desk for a moment seeming to prepare himself before he met Sam's curious gaze.

"Sam, your father called," Mr. Clemmons finally said.

Dean watched Sam carefully as his brother arranged his features to convey curiosity. Though, Dean knew Sam was probably ready to explode with curiosity the kid played it cool.

"Is something wrong?" Sam asked, his tone indicating his worry.

"Actually there is, Sam."

Here Mr. Clemmons paused once more and Dean found himself gritting his teeth. He needed Sam to act unsurprised and he worried that the kid couldn't pull it off. Then Mr. Clemmons surprised Dean by turning to face him. The older man's kind face fell for a moment as he seemed to ask Dean for help. Dean wondered faintly if he'd played his hand a little to well. Nodding to Clemmons, Dean turned to face Sam.

"Sammy, Dad asked that I bring you home." Here Dean allowed a touch of emotion to cloud his expression. Swallowing hard, Dean said, "Granny died, Sam."

Dean nearly crowed with pride as Sam's expression crumbled. His brother broke eye contact and dropped his head, his shoulders shaking gently with emotion. His reaction was picture perfect. If Dean didn't know that both of their grandmother's had died long before Sam was born he would have believed the kid, hook, line and sinker.

Mr. Clemmons stood obviously intending to offer Sam comfort. Dean instead gained his feet and motioned the man back to his chair. Moving so that his body blocked Sam from Clemmons view, Dean leaned over and wrapped his arm around his brother's shoulder. In a low voice meant only for Sam, Dean said, "Cry if you can kiddo, we need to get gone."

On cue, Sam hitched his shoulders a bit and wrapped a hand around Dean's shoulder, a low moan escaping him. Dean gave Sam a moment to manufacture some tears before standing straight and turning to confront Clemmons. "Sir, I think I'd better get Sammy home. I'm sure Dad's booking us a flight out to Orlando tonight."

The principal stood and offered Dean his hand. "Yes, he did mention it. I'm so very sorry for your loss boys and if there's anything you need just ask."

Dean nodded, careful to hide his grin as Sam let out a particularly tortured sob, and helped his brother to his feet. "Thank you, Sir, we appreciate your kindness." He wrapped an arm around Sam guiding him out of the office and with a nod to the secretary, he led him toward the front doors of the school.

Once well away from the office Sam straightened just a bit and asked in a low whisper, "What the hell, Dean. Is Dad back?"

"Keep moving, kiddo, I'll explain once we're away from the school," Dean answered as he tried to nonchalantly take a look at his watch. He wasn't sure why but the overwhelming sense of worry he'd been experiencing all day was worsening by the minute.

The boys kept up the façade until they were well away from the school. Only then would Dean answer Sam's questions. "We need to cut across to Beth's place but we can't afford to be seen."

Sam's look of surprise lasted only a moment before he was leading Dean through a hedgerow that grew along the sidewalk. Content to let his brother lead, Dean said, "Something's wrong. Beth never showed for school today. I know you said it was safe, but I just can't shake this feeling."

Sam broke into an easy ground-covering jog as he led the way across town via back yards and alleys. "I don't understand you said Dad's not home yet, who called in?"

Dean kept pace with his brother, keeping a careful eye out for anyone. He wanted to avoid as many being seen as much as possible. Dropping his voice an octave, Dean mimicked his father, "Hello, Mr. Clemmons, I'm afraid we've had a bit of bad news."

Sam nearly stopped dead in his tracks at his brother's uncanny impersonation of their father. "Dude, you're like Ferris Bueller."

Dean grabbed hold of Sam's sweatshirt and tugged him into motion once more before he answered, "Yeah, but I'm pretty sure Ferris had a lot more fun on his day off."

Sam snorted and threw his brother a grin, "True the parade did look like fun. Plus if Ferris had gotten caught by his parents he'd have ended up grounded. If Dad catches us he'll more likely kill us."

"Yup, can't argue with that. I can't tell you the number of ways we're gonna get reamed on this one, Sammy," Dean said as he picked up the pace a notch. His nerves were literally tingling at this point and he couldn't help but wish they had the car rather than huffing it on foot.

Sam nodded and nearly whispered, "Yeah, he's gonna kill us that's for sure."

"No worries, Sam, it's for a good cause, remember?" Dean said unable to help throwing Sam's words back at him.

Sam ignored his brother's remark and asked, "We don't even have weapons, Dean. Maybe we should head back to the apartment first."

Dean shook his head as they began to approach Beth's neighborhood. "I hit the apartment before I came and got you. We're all set." Dean shrugged indicating the backpack had had loped over his shoulder.

"You went into school armed?" Sam's voice nearly cracked with surprise.

"Well, I was fairly certain I wasn't gonna get patted down. Its fine, Sam, now haul ass."

888

Caroline relaxed back onto the couch a mug of coffee warming her hands. Ever since last night she'd been unable to get warm. Though, she knew it was probably psychological, Caroline had turned up the heat and had slipped on her heaviest sweater. Even now, with the a fire blazing in the fireplace she still felt a bone deep chill that seemed to come from inside of her.

She leaned her head back against the couch and turned to face Beth. Her niece had fallen asleep only moments before. Succumbing only after Caroline had sworn to stay awake. Beth sat at the opposite end of the couch, her head resting against the backrest. She was curled in on herself, her knees drawn almost to her chest, her arms tucked against her. She looked so young that for a moment Caroline found herself wondering where the time had gone. It seemed only yesterday her sister had placed the squalling, blanket-wrapped baby in her arms. She could remember it like it was yesterday. She'd been so nervous, so afraid she'd do the wrong thing. She needn't have worried. Beth's cries cut off in an instant, her round baby blue eyes staring intently up at Caroline. That was the moment Caroline had fallen in love.

As she watched Beth sleep she vowed to do whatever was necessary to help her niece. Losing her brother a year ago had been one of the hardest things she'd ever faced. She sometimes thought the reasons she'd survived was Beth. The responsibility thrust upon her had been almost welcome, without it, she was sure the loss would have killed her. She wouldn't lose Beth. She couldn't lose Beth.

Caroline reached out and gently brushed the younger girl's bangs out of her eyes. Her heart was in her throat as she thought about everything that Beth had told her. Though, Caroline wasn't sure just what was real and what was a figment of her niece's imagination she couldn't deny that something was wrong with her. Problem was this time Caroline was unsure how to help. In fact, she was seriously afraid anything she might do would only make matters worse.

According to Beth, her nightmares had begun again. The same nightmares that started before her parents were killed and ended the night her parents died. A year ago, when her sister-in-law had told her that Beth was having problems, Caroline had shrugged it off. Her niece was a good girl always had been and Caroline just couldn't imagine a couple of nightmares changing that. It was only later, after it was all over, Caroline began to wonder just how bad the nightmares had become. By then, though, things were just beginning to take a turn for the better. Beth had been cleared of all charges stemming from her parent's death, Caroline had purchased the new house, and for better or worse, they were settling into a routine.

Now, though seeing just how freaked Beth was by the dreams that plagued her, Caroline wondered if she should have attached more importance to them the first time. Not that her niece could have had anything to do with her parent's death, Caroline frowned as she focused on the fire. What if Beth's nightmares were something more than just dreams. What if they were the precursor to a brain tumor or some kind of personality altering sickness.

Caroline's stomach twisted in fear, she didn't know what to do next. She was afraid that any attempt at having a doctor look over the girl would lead both Beth and others to question all they'd denied for the past year. Caroline swore to herself that even if, in some unimaginable way, Beth had done something it was a cry for help and nothing more.

Beyond exhausted Caroline allowed her eyelids to drop. Beth had been so adamant in refusing to sleep that Caroline had finally given in. Determined to ease Beth's anxiety Caroline had wrangled the young girl into cleaning out the kitchen cabinets. It had actually been fun, the two of them in their pajamas radio blaring, if you could ignore the desperate look that came into Beth's eyes every now and again it almost seemed normal.

Caroline allowed her mind to drift as sleep began to overtake her. At first, the sound she heard barely registered. It was no more than a low insistent buzz that invaded her mind. It was only as the buzz grew that she realized she was hearing voices. Her sleep-fogged brain refused to cooperate as she tried to define just whom the voices belonged to. Gaining her feet, she focused on the noise.

888

"Sam, I told you I'm not going to involve them anymore than necessary," Dean groused as he carefully applied the pick to the lock on Caroline's back door.

"So we're just going to go in and what, avoid them?" Sam asked throwing up his arms in frustration.

"What would you rather we do, Sam. Knock on the door and politely tell them they have a haunted book in their possession and it killed not only Beth's parents but committed one of America's most famous murders." Dean glared at his brother, willing him to understand that despite Caroline's kindness she would be quick to call the cops. Either that or, given the way she was always questioning their father, at the very least child services.

As Dean knelt one knee resting against the door, he turned his attention from the doorknob in question and faced his brother. "Sam,--"

Dean never finished his sentence as the door swung in causing him to fall face forward into the house.

"Dean, Sam?"

Dean turned over and stared up at the amused expression on Caroline's face. With a weak smile, he scrambled to his feet and asked, "Is Beth here?"


	15. Chapter 15

Dean scrambled to his feet as his mind scrambled for an excuse. Sam luckily saved them both by answering.

"Dean's sorry for acting like a jerk and he's here to apologize to Beth," Sam blurted his gaze darting about the room.

So much for luck, Dean thought, now he was going to have to kill his baby brother. Unable to counter Sam's statement, Dean simply glanced up at Caroline and shrugged. As Caroline reached out to embrace him, Dean vowed that killing his brother would be too easy, clearly in this case torture was needed. "Can we speak to Beth?"

Dean watched as Caroline bit her lower lip her sad gaze darting toward the doorway to the kitchen. "I'm not sure that it's a good time, Dean. Beth's not feeling well."

Dean exchanged glances with his brother, his gaze reassuring Sam that he was a dead man walking before Dean met Caroline's gaze once more. "Please, I did something stupid and I really need to speak with her."

Caroline seemed to take pity on Dean. "Oh, honey, I'm sure you didn't do anything wrong. Beth hasn't been herself lately. I'm sure she's forgiven you for whatever you did."

Ready to scream in frustration, Dean schooled his features and stared up at Caroline. Though, he didn't have the magic of Sam's puppy dog eyes, he knew that he could garner pity with the best of them when he chose to. "Please, Caroline, I'll only stay a moment. I just can't rest until I know that she's forgiven me." Dean widened his green eyes slightly and bit his lower lip in consternation.

He could actually see the moment when Caroline weakened. Refraining from knocking Sam up the back of the head, he followed Caroline out of the mud room and into the kitchen. There, he and Sam took the chairs that Caro indicated. She was half-way out of the room when she turned a puzzled look on her face. "Boys, what are you doing here?"

"Ah, to see Beth," Dean answered, wincing as he heard his own words.

Caroline rolled her eyes and snorted. "Funny, but that's not what I'm looking for and you know it."

Caroline stood one eyebrow lifted in annoyance. Dean had no doubt what she referred to but again he was at a bit of a loss as to how he should answer. Sam, god damn him, came to his rescue once again.

"Dean figured you'd be at work. He wanted to talk to Beth alone," Sam's voice dropped in volume as he whispered, "he hasn't been sleeping well."

Dean couldn't stop himself from turning to Sam with a cry, "Dude."

Sam dropped his gaze and shrugged his shoulders. He may have even uttered an apology, but Dean was beyond caring. Drawing a deep breath, he turned to Caro and shrugged. "Yeah, what Sam said."

"Not gonna cut it, Dean. Spit it out."

"We cut," he finally answered. Really, he figured they were so screwed anyway what difference did it matter. There was little chance they'd suffer any repercussions, as it was doubtful they'd be returning to school in Fall River. Actually, there was little chance they'd live much past the point when their father returned because by Dean's count he and Sam were breaking no less than twelve of their father's rules.

"You know I should call the school." Despite the threat in her words, Caroline's gaze traveled toward the hall that led to the living room, her face falling into lines of sadness.

"Just let me see her, please, Caroline. I know something's wrong and I just want to help." Whether Caroline heard the sincerity in his voice or she simply didn't feel as if she had any other options she nodded.

"Wait here, I'll see if she wants to see you." Caroline's tone left no room for argument as she left the kitchen.

Without even turning to face him, Dean's arm shot out and he caught Sam in the back of his head with the palm of his hand.

"Dean," Sam whined, as he rubbed the back of his head. "I had to say something, you were just standing there."

Dean shook his head. "Admit that you enjoyed it."

Dean didn't have to see his brother to know that Sam was grinning. "Glad you think it's funny, now when Beth gets here what the hell do I tell her."

"The truth," Sam whispered as he moved to step closer to Dean.

Dean rolled his eyes at Sam's advice, "I don't know, Sam, seems risky. If she doesn't buy it then we're screwed, we'll never get to search for that book."

Sam's voice was filled with conviction, "Just tell her the truth, Dean. I know she'll believe."

888

"Honey, Beth, come on, sweetie, wake up."

Beth came awake with a gasp. Sitting up she stared at her aunt, relief slowly filling her at the sight of Caroline. "You shouldn't have let me fall asleep," Beth chided her aunt. She ran a hand through her hair grimacing at the tangles. A shower quickly topped her list of things she wanted most. She glanced up to her aunt and noticed the almost guilty look on her face.

"What," she asked, suddenly feeling like she was missing something.

"Um, honey. Dean and Sam are here."

Beth nearly shrieked as she jumped off the couch. "What, why? They're supposed to be at school," she gasped.

"Honey, calm down. Dean said he's here to apologize."

"Apologize, what for? Wait you mean he's here now? I mean send him away, I don't want him involved," Beth cried, her voice nearly cracking as she pleaded with her aunt.

Caroline reached out a hand to her niece. "Beth, calm down. Dean just wants to talk to you and I don't seem what harm it'll do. Above all else he's your friend and I don't think it hurts for you to have friends right now."

Beth wrapped her arms around her waist desperate to hold herself together. She couldn't help the tears that began to roll down her cheeks. "I sent him away for a reason. I was trying to keep him safe."

Caroline reached out to her niece her heart in her gaze. "Honey, you don't need to keep anyone safe. You're not a danger to us Beth," Caroline insisted.

"She's right, Beth."

Beth spun on her heel at Dean's words. The sight of him standing so sure in the doorway of her living room caused her to sob, "Just go away, Dean."

Dean stepped farther into the living room, Sam trailing behind. Beth could only cry more at the sight of the younger boy following his brother.

"Beth just listen to me for a minute."

Beth shook her head at Dean and held up a hand to stop him from coming closer. "No, Dean, just stop. I'm not right. It's not safe. You shouldn't be here," Beth's voice cracked as she continued, "Sam shouldn't be here."

Beth watched as Dean turned to Caroline, the green eyed boy spoke softly, "Caroline, can I talk to Beth alone for a minute?"

"No, Aunt, please," Beth said as she watched Caroline wavering in indecision.

Finally, Caro seemed to come to a decision. Turning toward Dean she said, "I'll give you two a minute. Come with me, Sam."

Sam seemed unsure if he should follow Beth's Aunt. At last, he turned toward Dean and the two of them exchanged long glances. Beth found herself sucked in by their obviously close relationship. She knew that Sam would go nowhere without some kind of assurance by his big brother. Although, she didn't see the signal, Sam finally nodded and left the room.

As Dean turned and focused his incredible eyes on her, Beth took a step back. She knew what would happen if she allowed it. Dean would help to ease her worries, he'd make her forget just why she needed to keep her distance. He had that power over her and she was tempted, God how she was tempted to allow him to chase away her fears. But this time she couldn't allow it.

The more she considered what had happened to her family the more she came to the conclusion that she'd been the one to murder her parents. There was no other explanation. And now with the return of her dreams she was terrified that whatever was wrong with her was beginning again.

"Just stop, Dean. I don't want you here." Beth worked hard to make her voice sound strong but she knew she fell short of the mark.

"Beth, just listen to me. I can help you if you just let me try."

Dean seemed to approach her like he would a wild animal, careful to maintain eye contact he slowly moved toward her. His voice was low and soothing, despite the fact that his words sent her into a near panic.

Beth shook her head and held up her hands holding him off. "I don't know how you think you can help me, Dean, but trust me when I say there's nothing you can do."

Dean smiled softly his gaze never wavered. "I know that you didn't kill your parents."

His words were like a knife through her heart. "You don't know anything about me, Dean. So just get out."

Dean shook his head and came closer still. "Listen to me, Beth. I know if you give me the time I can prove it to you. Proof, Beth, solid proof that you're not to blame in anyway."

Beth wavered, her heart jumping at the idea that she was absolved of all guilt. To return to her life satisfied that she wasn't the cause of her parent's death. It was the fact that she wanted it so desperately bad that she distrusted the feeling. Nothing in her life had been easy, why all of the sudden would that change simply because one beautiful boy promised it would.

"You can trust me," Dean's low voice rang with sincerity.

Beth couldn't help herself, in that moment she reached out and grabbed for the lifeline he offered. Once again she offered herself up to the salvation he offered. One step forward was all it took and she felt his arms wrap tight around her.

Though she was still sure that he could offer her no real help just his embrace was like a balm to her soul. She suddenly felt waves of exhaustion crash into her threatening to pull her under. She fought against it still confident that she offered nothing but death to those she cared for if she slept.

At last, Dean pushed her an arm's length away and stared hard at her. "I can help you, Beth, but you need to listen and keep an open mind."

Dean dropped his hands and guided Beth toward the couch. Gently he pushed her down until she was seated, then he dropped down next to her. Beth shook her head at his serious expression. "Dean there's nothing you can say."

"Your parents were killed, but not by you."

Beth stared at him as he spoke with conviction. "What do you know about what happened? You weren't even here then."

Dean took a deep breath and said, "I know because my father's an investigator. These types of deaths are what we specialize in."

Beth tried to process what he was saying, but his words just made no sense. "You're a kid in high school, your father hasn't spent more than a day in this town, what do you mean these types of deaths?"

Dean seemed to weigh her words before finally answering, "We've helped out our Dad before, Sam and I, we know what we're doing."

"This is the help you offered, you and your brother playing at being the Hardy boys. Exactly how is any of this going to help me?" Beth felt her anger rising, this was no game, this was her life, and Dean's offer of help seemed more like a mockery of her problems.

"Listen, just hear me out. There's a book here in the house, and your parents died because of it. Your father bought it unknowingly and brought it home. This book is the reason your parents are dead."

Beth struggled to keep up. "A book, I don't understand what's a book have to do with it?"

"Your parents were killed because of that book and now I think you have the book here in the house. If we can't find it, something bad's going to happen." Dean's gaze met Beth's and she found she was unable to look away from the intensity she could see there.

"A book."

Dean nodded. "A book and we're running out of time, Beth. Now, Sam's got a list of maybes but you or Caroline are the only ones that can tell us for sure if the book's here."

"If that's true then the police--"

Dean interrupted her, "Do you really believe the police will help you. They think you did it, Beth. Hell, you call them without proof and they're gonna laugh or worse."

Beth blanched at Dean's words, he was right she was at the very least a laughingstock in this town and at most an un-convicted murder.

"Good," Dean said taking her silence for consent.

888

Sam sat across from Caroline a glass of soda in front of him. He couldn't help but wince at the arguing voices he heard emanating from the living room. Though they were too muffled to hear the actual words the tone was clear enough. Beth wasn't buying Dean's story. Or Dean's truth. Or whatever Dean had decided to say.

Caroline shifted in her seat as if she wanted to interrupt the couple, but she must have decided against it as she settled back once more. "What's going on, Sam?"

Sam himself shifted at the no-nonsense tone of Caroline's voice. He'd been all for telling the truth up until he found himself face to face with Caroline. Now, he found he lacked the courage. Over the past months he'd become more than fond of the bookstore owner. She was forthright, caring and always willing to offer up help to those that needed it. In short she was a mom. Despite the fact that she hadn't given birth to Beth, Caroline was a mother to her niece and everyone that surrounded her. To Sam that kind of treatment was something to be savored. It was something he'd never known he was missing until he'd met Caroline. Now that he'd gotten a taste of it he craved more. Here, in this house, he'd had his first taste of normal and he liked it.

Despite the fact that he knew what needed to be done he was hesitant to taint this family with his life. So, Sam did what he could to stave off the inevitable and lied. "Dean and I found out that Beth's parents were killed because of a book your brother had in his possession."

Caroline sat back in obvious surprise. "What are you talking about, Sam?"

"Our father is an investigator, Dean and I have helped with some of his cases before. When Dean told me what happened to Beth's parents I began doing some digging and I found proof that they were killed because of this book."

Sam said no more, instead he waited to see what Caroline's response would be. Surprisingly, the woman stood and gestured for him to follow her.

Sam followed reluctantly sure that his cover story was about to be blown. As he and Caro entered the living room, they found Beth sitting on the couch with Dean poised next to her. The two of them looked up at Sam and Caroline's entrance.

Sam tried to capture his brother's gaze, but Dean had eyes only for Caroline. As the older woman approached Sam's brother, she seemed to consider her words carefully.

"Dean, I'd like to know why you're here?"

Dean's gaze never faltered as he said, "We're here to help. Beth is innocent, and Sammy and I know it."

As if it were a knee-jerk reaction Caroline answered, "Of course she's innocent. But what do you mean you want to help?"

Sam tensed, unsure of what Dean's answer would be. A very small part of him wished that Dean would just spill the truth. At least then it would be over and Sam could deal with the looks of horror sure to grace both Caroline and Beth's faces.

"My father's an investigator," Dean said, steadily meeting Caro's gaze.

"He thinks that my parents were killed over a book, Caroline. Do you think it's possible? Could my Dad have had a book that someone would kill for?" Beth's voice was a weird mixture of doubt and hope.

Caroline shifted back on her heels a bit, obviously trying to decide if the boys idea even warranted consideration. "It seems a bit far flung, honey. I mean your dad did have a lot of very rare volumes, but..."

"How rare?" Dean pressed.

"I haven't been through all his stock yet, but, from what I've seen he made a lot of very serious purchases before his death. But, rare enough that someone killed him for it, I just don't know." Caroline dropped to the sofa next to her niece and turned to face Dean.

"Besides if there had been a book, then whoever came into the house must have taken it. So it wouldn't still be here. And how's this tie into Beth's nightmares?" Caroline's face was a study of confusion.

Dean sent a fleeting glance at Sam before he answered, "The nightmare had to have been caused by something Beth saw. Her instinct recognizes the threat even if her mind doesn't."

"Huh," Caroline leaned back and stared in contemplation at her niece. Sam couldn't help but fidget as he waited to see if Caroline bought the excuse.

"What if, this guy was coming and going for weeks searching for that book. Maybe, it wasn't a nightmare Beth, maybe it was an actual man. I mean you did originally think it was a man right?"

Sam could hear the desperation in Caro's voice as she questioned Beth. He felt horrible for lying and he very nearly wanted to blurt out the truth. His only excuse for staying quiet was that they were quickly running out of time and like Dean had pointed out there really was no other choice.

Beth's eyes lit up with the idea that she was not only in the clear for her parent's death but that the nightmares may have a basis in reality. "It's possible, I guess."

"Good, okay now I'm thinking this guy couldn't find what he wanted and now he's back. We need to find that book and we need to hurry." Dean nodded toward Sam as he continued, "Sam's got an idea of what to look for, we just need to start searching."

Sam quickly pulled a slightly crumpled piece of paper from his pocket and handed it to Caroline. The older woman accepted it and unfolded the list. It took her only a moment to peruse it before she began frowning.

"What?" Dean questioned as he watched the older woman's expression.

Caroline shook her head as she spoke, "This isn't going to be easy."

888

"Dean, we're running out of time," Sam whispered with urgency.

Leave it to the kid to state the obvious, Dean thought, as he sat back on his heels. With a sigh, he wondered if there was even any point to this. When Caroline had said it wasn't going to be easy she'd been right. Outside of a library or a bookstore, Dean had never seen so many books. There were stacks and stacks of them, some boxed, some lying loose on the floor. They filled over three quarters of Caroline's room, allowing for only a small space for her bed and dresser.

Sam, apparently not done with his update, whispered, "It's already past nine."

Dean, sure that the kid would keep talking if he didn't answer, finally said, "I know, Sam. But unless you have another idea, we have no choice."

His little brother shook his head and whispered in fear, "This thing is gonna show up soon."

Dean glanced at his brother an angry retort at the ready, Sam's pale face and wide eyes stopped him. With a sigh, he instead reached out and ruffled his brother's hair. "It's gonna be okay, Sam, I'm going to keep us all safe."

Sam seemed to relax at Dean's re-assurance. The kid's mouth quirked up in a crooked smile as he replied, "Does that mean you're gonna tell Dad this is all your fault?"

Dean snorted and shoved his brother. "Yeah right, dream on, kiddo, this one's all your doing."

"I found another one," Beth called out in triumph from the far corner of the room.

"Go on, kid, see if she's got a winner," Dean said gesturing toward Beth.

Sam flashed him a grin and scurried off intent on checking to see if the book Beth found was one of the ones they were searching for. Not only were they being hindered by the sheer number of books that Caroline had stashed in her room, they were also faced with several copies of the books they searched for.

The seven books all having come from the Borden house were typical titles for that time period. Ranging from poetry to romance to biographies the books had all been of good quality. Apparently, Mr. Walsh wasn't intent on any one specific book. He'd been buying books from estate sales all over the country with the intent of cataloguing them and eventually setting up a rare-book store online. Caroline, in the process of realizing her brother's dream, had continued to purchase books. So really it came down to finding a needle in a haystack.

"This is one of them, Dean." Sam held the book up in triumph.

"Okay, so that's what, the fourth?" Dean asked. Shit, he thought, they simply weren't moving fast enough. Even once they unearthed the books they weren't certain which one was the culprit. As an added bonus once they found all seven, and determined which was possessed then they still needed some excuse to get the book from Caroline. Dean didn't think Caroline would simply let them set the novel on fire in the middle of her bedroom.

Dean turned from the stack he'd been working on and moved to another. With a sigh, he resumed searching, his mind once again going over all the ways this could go wrong.

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Caroline straightened up, a slim volume held in her hand. Caressing the leather bound book, she found herself saddened by the thought that the book she held could have been the cause of her brother's death. The book, a compilation of Emily Dickinson's poems was obviously old and in very good shape. Flipping through it, Caroline quickly realized this was one of the original copies of Emily's work. These poems, published after Dickinson died were heavily edited copies of the woman's original poems.

This book was the last one on the list. She'd carefully gone over all the others and found that while all were very good specimens there was nothing that would drive someone to kill for. Not one of the books on Sam's list even came close. Devastated, Caroline stood and moved toward the pile.

Her gaze found Dean as the young boy once again looked down at his watch. She quickly became angry with herself as she considered just what she'd been told earlier. How stupid that she allowed not only herself, but also her niece to put stock in anything two young boys had to say. There was no book of tremendous value in her brother's collection, hell there wasn't even a book of middling value.

"Dean, what's going on?" Caroline questioned, holding up the slim volume in her hand.

Though, Dean's expression never altered, Sam's excitement was easy to read. "This book is worthless like the others and it's the last one on the list."

"Dean?" Beth questioned, her heavily shadowed eyes filled with confusion.

Dean stood and faced Caroline and Beth, his gaze, though, seemingly focused on Caroline, kept darting toward the book she held.

"You found it?" he asked, ignoring her question.

"I haven't found crap, Dean. There's no way someone killed my brother for one of these books. What is this some kind of game?"

Dean shook his head, his expression determined. "No, not a game, Caroline. One of these books is responsible, I swear."

Caroline found herself melting at the intensity of the teen's gaze. He seemed so sure, she found herself wondering if she'd somehow missed something vital. Tearing her eyes away from the green eyed boy, she dropped her gaze to the stack next to her. As she scanned the titles, she shook her head. "No, you're wrong. There's simply no way. There was over a thousand dollars in the downstairs office lying in an envelope in a desk drawer. The money was found by the police and there'd been no sign that the house was searched. I doubt that any of these books is over that in value. In fact, I doubt they'd equal it even if you combined them."

Dean stepped forward his gaze again straying toward the books. "Just let Sam take a look at that book. Please, Caroline, it's important."

"No, I want you out of my house."

"Caroline, what's going on I don't understand?" Beth questioned.

"Please, Caroline, just let me look," Sam begged.

Caroline nearly wavered. She honestly liked the Winchester boys and she had trouble entertaining the idea that they would intentionally hurt either her or Beth. However, that didn't mean that they wouldn't cause them pain unintentionally. Sometimes, false hope did more damage than good.

Caroline felt a chill slip down her spine as she shook her head. "No, Sam," she stated firmly wanting the boys gone. Her first priority was to Beth and her niece wasn't looking all that well at the moment.

"Dean," Sam called his voice shaking in fear.

Caroline, unsure of what had set Sam off became even more concerned when the younger boy backed into his brother. It was then that a cold draft blew against the back of Caroline's neck causing her to shiver. To Caroline if felt as if someone had opened a window, yet, the only window in the room was still tightly shut.

Shit, she thought, maybe the boys were right. Maybe, someone was at this moment sneaking into her home intent on searching it. "Kids, come here," she ordered, suddenly sure that someone would come walking through the bedroom door at any minute.

Dean ignored Caroline's order and instead moved toward the door. It was obvious he was intent on grabbing the backpack he'd set down on the floor earlier today. Caroline's shock increased as the young man knelt down beside the bag, his gaze darting around the room. Dean then unzipped the bag and pulled out what looked like a shotgun. Though, shorter than normal it was obviously no toy.

"Dean?" Caroline questioned, her instincts screaming at her to protect Beth.

"Everything's going to be okay, Caroline," Dean said distractedly as he pulled a wickedly sharp knife from his bag. Seemingly without a glance, Dean tossed it to Sam who caught it neatly. "Keep a sharp eye out, Sammy."

"'K, Dean," Sam answered a steely glint in his eyes that seemed surreal on a boy of his age.

Caroline needed to take charge, it was obvious something was seriously wrong with both boys. "I want you both to leave, now." She tried her best to sound confident despite the very real looking weapons the boys now brandished. Reaching out, she hooked a hand around Beth's arm, intent on dragging the girl toward her.

As soon as she touched her niece all hell broke loose. Though, she faced the only door in the room, a low voice rang out from behind her.

"She's mine."

Strong hands wrapped themselves around her arms and Caroline felt herself lifted off the ground. Then, she was flying through the air coming to a rest only as she hit the wall with a thud. Thankful that she was still conscience, she watched as the older Winchester pointed his shotgun toward the man that now stood in the center of the room. Beth was only a foot away from him and she seemed frozen in fear. The man himself looked to be in his early twenties. His hair was neatly combed and he was dressed decently though his clothes looked dated.

Holding out a hand in supplication to Beth, he took no notice of Dean's gun or the other people in the room. "Forever mine," were his only words as he stepped toward Beth.

Only, he didn't actually step closer. He did move closer to Beth, but when Caroline's gaze flickered toward his legs, she realized he had none. His body was as solid looking as her niece and yet he seemed to completely unsupported. Caroline blinked sure that her eyes were betraying her.

Sure she'd hit her head without realizing it, Caroline struggled to her feet, one hand going up to stop Dean who'd cocked his shotgun. Her breathless cry of 'no' didn't stop the teen from firing on the man.

A scream of rage nearly drowned out the echoing report of the gun. Then the man was gone. Not fallen to the floor dead or dying. Not thrown back from the force of the blast. Not even saying a prayer to heaven for a missed shot. He was just gone.


	16. Chapter 16

"It was him."

Beth's voice was so low Dean nearly missed her words. A bolt of pity washed through him as he considered just how scared she must be.

"Yeah, Beth, we know," Sam answered as he moved to Beth's side.

Dean watched with pride as his brother put himself between Beth and the rest of the room. Though, the kid had to be scared to death, he was handling himself well. Sam'd been on a few easy hunts with Dean and his Dad but nothing compared to what they were in now. Dean had been hesitant to involve Sam in this at all, but he knew he'd have little chance keeping his kid brother out of it.

So, he'd relented and now he found himself glad he had. Even Sam's inexperience was preferable to dealing with the two terrified woman alone. Not bothering to explain, he'd leave that to his brother, Dean kept his eyes peeled for any sign of the spirit. He found he didn't like the way the ghost had gone straight for Caroline. To him it seemed to prove Sam's theory that the parents were targeted for a reason and not by random. Now if only they could figure out what the reason was.

"But, I don't understand, what was that, that thing?" Caroline's voice was breathy and she swayed slightly where she stood.

Sam seemed to hesitate for a minute as if he were trying to figure out what to say. Finally, he settled for asking, "What do you think it was?"

Caroline held Sam's gaze for a moment before her eyes began to skitter around the room. She seemed unable to come up with an adequate explanation so she chose to say nothing. She did, however, move closer to Beth, tucking herself between Sam and the young girl.

"It was a ghost, wasn't it, Sam?"

Beth's slightly bulging eyes and incredulous tone made Dean appreciate just how freaked she was. He had to admit he couldn't blame her, after all, he was a bit freaked himself. Dealing with an angry spirit while being backed up by his father was one thing, dealing with one on his own was another.

"Yes," Dean's answer was short and to the point. They really did not have time for Sam to sugarcoat the truth.

"There's no such thing as ghosts," Caroline said automatically.

"Really, so what just picked you up and tossed you across the room?" Dean snapped, unwilling to deal with stupidity when he knew their time was limited. The blast of iron buckshot he'd hit the spirit with was effective but not permanent. The ghost would be back sooner or later and given the Winchester's luck, Dean was betting on sooner.

Sam ignored his brother's words and answered, "You can believe what you like, but, you can't deny what you just saw. There's a ghost and it's latched onto one of the books we were looking for."

"Latched onto a book, why?" Beth asked her voice shaking in fear.

"Sam," Dean called out, urging his brother to get on with the explanation. They were quickly running out of time.

Sam nodded in his brother's direction and rushed to answer, "We're not sure why, but we know this ghost killed not only your parents but..."

Dean met his brother's gaze as Sam's voice trailed off. He could read Sam like a book and he knew Sam was silently asking him just how much information he should give. For Dean less was better.

"Others," Sam finished, as his gaze shifted from Dean's. "We can stop it but we need to destroy the book. Or well I guess we should destroy them all seeing as we're not sure which it is."

"But, Dean killed it. I mean we just saw him shoot it," Caroline said, her gaze darting around the room.

"No the iron in the shot doesn't kill the spirit it only causes it to dissipate for a short while," Sam explained as he moved toward the books.

"Yeah, well that and piss it off," Dean snapped, as he felt a rush of cold air sweep into the room.

"Everyone behind me. Sam, get the books." Dean patted down his jacket double-checking the extra shells he'd placed in his pockets.

As the other three moved to do as Dean ordered, he lifted his gun and waited. He stood with Beth directly behind him and Caroline behind her. Sam was bringing up the rear, the books in his arms. "It's gonna show itself, stay behind me no matter what."

"Dean?"

The fear in Beth's voice was palpable. He couldn't help but feel sorry for her initiation into his world. Hell, if he were honest he would have to admit he'd rather she had remained ignorant. "Steady, Beth. I'm not going to let anything happen to you or Caroline."

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Despite all reason, Dean's words caused a lightening in Beth's soul. For so long she'd lived in fear. Fear that she was somehow responsible for her parent's death. Now, the idea of a ghost killing her parents seemed almost welcome. Crazy she might be, but a killer she wasn't. The sight of the same young man she'd seen in her dreams was proof of that.

If Beth hadn't been surrounded by people she never would have believed what she'd seen. It was her nightmare come to life, only this time she hadn't faced it alone.

"I know, Dean," Beth answered with conviction. She had no doubt the young man that stood so confidently before her, shotgun in hand, would do what was necessary to protect them all. There was something about Dean that inspired confidence.

"What does it want?" Beth asked as she scanned the room. She couldn't help but feel a strange pressure building. It felt like a storm hovering on the horizon and she found herself terrified of what would happen when the tempest finally broke.

As if her thoughts had summoned it, the young man appeared only feet from Dean. Beth cringed back, her hands automatically reaching out to grab fistfuls of Dean's shirt. "Dean," she breathed her gaze locked on the ghostly young man.

Dean never acknowledged her words, instead he began moving slowly to his left. Beth, her hands still fisted in his shirt, automatically followed. She could feel her aunt mimicking her and she could only assume that Sam was keeping up.

As they skirted their way around the room, Dean nimbly sidestepping piles of books while she stumbled and staggered, she began to think they'd make it to the door without a confrontation. She wasn't sure why Dean didn't simply shoot, but she could only trust he had a reason. He looked as if he had a plan.

He was completely focused on the spirit. His entire body moved as if it were on autopilot. He never once misstepped and he seemed constantly aware of how the others were positioned. If Sam lagged even a step, Dean would slow and wait until his brother fell back into formation. Beth drew confidence from his skills, he obviously wasn't coming into this blind.

"Get ready to move," Dean said, his lips barely moving.

The words were so soft Beth actually wondered if she'd heard right. At least, she did before she realized they'd neared the door to the hallway. Forewarned, Beth shifted her focus to the young man that stood in the center of the room.

He'd done nothing so far other than follow their progress as they moved about the room. The man's dark hair was slicked back, his high forehead only served to highlight both his handsomeness and his youth. He wore a dark suit, the jacket's three buttons were done, and a white shirt peeked from the edges of his sleeves. The shirt's collar came to points beneath his chin and he wore a slim dark tie. Overall, though, he was obviously wearing clothing from another generation he looked well put together.

Beth, her knowledge of ghosts based solely on the Poltergeist movies, couldn't imagine what would cause such a normal looking man to go so stark raving mad. After all, she was reasonably sure her old house hadn't been built on an Indian burial ground. She desperately wanted to question both Sam and Dean, as they obviously knew more than she did but she didn't dare. The ghost in question seemed to be poised on the brink of something, and Beth didn't want to risk pushing it over whatever invisible edge it stood on.

"Beth, now!"

So engrossed in the spirit, Beth nearly missed Dean's cry. She lost precious seconds as she stumbled over the doorway.

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Sam couldn't help the burst of pride he felt as Dean began maneuvering them toward the bedroom entrance. Though, he'd done little actual hunting, he'd been privy to all the same training Dean had and he quickly recognized his brother's move. Their Dad had always made it clear that 'Discretion was the better part of valor'. In this case Dean had assessed the situation and had come to the decision that he would only engage the spirit if necessary.

John's training had ensured that neither of his sons ever let the adrenaline of a hunt to fuel their actions. Dean was obviously taking every advantage he could. The fact that the spirit had yet to attack was a bonus and something that Dean wouldn't just ignore. Sam had no doubt it wouldn't last, but, it was possible it would give them all a chance to get closer to the fire that was burning in the living room fireplace.

That the fire still burned Sam had no doubt. The entire evening, Dean had periodically built up the blaze on the pretext of keeping Beth warm. In reality, Sam was certain they would find a canister of salt stashed near the hearth. Dean was nothing if not thorough.

The small huddle swiftly made it's way around the room, Dean only pausing if they spread out too far. He was evidently concerned that he couldn't protect them all if separated so he was keeping them bunched together. Caroline was making Dean's task even easier as she refused to step more than an inch away from her niece. Sam was having the hardest time keeping up. The books he was holding kept him from clearly seeing where he was going and he found he was stumbling more often than not. If he was following his father it would have made him panic, but behind his brother he knew he didn't have to worry. Dean would never allow him to fall too far behind.

As the doorway loomed and the spirit of the young man continued to simply stare at the group, Sam began to feel as if they might actually make it out alive.

It was then everything went to pieces. Nearly before he could take it in, Dean sidestepped the door and Beth went through the opening. If she'd made it through cleanly they might have all had a chance, but unfortunately she stumbled over the threshold.

Caroline, close on Beth's heels, tripped over her niece and hit the floor with a thud. Sam guessed it was exactly what the ghost had been hoping for. As the older woman hit the floor with a cry, the spirit suddenly lunged forward. A glint of metal gleamed in his hand as he pounced. Caroline flipped onto her back, her eyes wide with fear, as the spirit reached her in the blink of an eye. One arm rose to deflect the blade as she cried out in panic.

As the knife descended, the blast of the shotgun tore through the night air. As the iron shot tore through the ghost, it disappeared with one final primal scream. Sam dropped the books he held and hurried to Caroline's side. The older woman's forearm was bleeding heavily from the blow and she was shaking with shock.

"Caro," Beth's voice cracked with fear as she hovered over her aunt.

At the sound of Beth's voice, Caroline pulled herself together. Still shaking slightly the older woman reached out and grasped her niece's hand, in a near whisper she said, "I'm okay, honey."

Beth began to sink to the floor next to her aunt. Dean stopped her. With a firm hand, he gripped her arm and hauled her upright. "No, Beth. We have to stop this thing before it comes back. It's only going to keep going after Caroline until we get rid of those books. Sam."

Sam understood his brother's unspoken order. In a flash, he ripped the bottom of his tee shirt and was wrapping Caroline's arm tightly. Ignoring her wince of pain, he reassured her, "Dean can stitch that up for you later."

Sam had a moment of doubt when he saw Caroline's already wide eyes open even further. He was suddenly afraid he'd revealed too much.

"Dean?" Caroline asked, her voice rough with emotion.

"Yeah, don't worry about it for now. We have to move." Sam pulled on her good arm hoping to distract her from his words.

Once she was on her feet, he quickly picked up the books he'd dropped and nodded to his brother. "Ready," were his only words as he kept an eye out for the young man.

"Let's go," Dean said as the procession started out of the bedroom and down the hall.

Though the house was small in size, Sam would never have guessed it from the length of the hallway. Although, he had to concede, it might be the sense of panic that kept threatening to overwhelm him that made the short walk seem so long. It didn't help that Beth was all but supporting her aunt, or that Dean was continually muttering about their slow speed.

"Gotta move, Beth. It's gonna come back," Dean said aloud at last as Caroline came to a halt again.

"She's hurt, Dean," Beth countered shooting him a look that clearly conveyed her impatience with his attitude.

"Yeah, well, if she plans on staying alive to get help for that cut she's gonna need to keep moving. He's going to come back, Beth and he's going to be really pissed this time."

Caroline didn't need her niece's urging to get moving and keep moving, Dean's words were motivation enough. As they picked up the pace a bit, they cleared the hallway at last. Sam had just entered the large open living room when he felt something solid slam into his back. The blow was strong enough to knock Sam off his feet and the air out of his lungs.

He barely registered Dean shouting his name as he slammed into the bookcase that stood against the wall. The force of his body hitting the shelves caused them to collapse. He passed out as a tidal wave of books fell from the shelves, most of them landing on top of him.

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It wasn't until he saw Sam go flying that Dean truly embraced his instincts. Up until then he was so busy trying to remember what he'd been taught he felt awkward and incapable. There was just something about watching his brother, the baby he'd carried out of the fire, get slammed by a spirit that seemed to take all thought out of the process.

Acting on pure intuition, Dean turned and aimed for the spirit that was again focused on Beth's aunt. Firing off a shot, he was unsurprised that he missed. It was obvious the ghost was becoming more determined to reach his prey. Dean's heightened senses took in Caroline backed into a corner near the fireplace, her niece wedged behind her, her injured arm pulled tight to her chest. "Caroline, the poker, you can stop him."

Not waiting to see if the woman listened, Dean lowered his gun and sprinted toward his brother. His every thought was to reach Sam and make sure his little brother was alright. His instinct demanded that he stop the spirit first. Dean went with instinct, after all, with the man still trying to make mince meat out of Caroline there was little Dean could do for Sam.

When his brother hit the bookcase, a wall of books toppled to the floor mingling with the books Sam had been carrying. Now, unsure of what was what and finding himself running out of time, Dean grabbed an armful books and raced back to the fireplace. Focused on the job at hand, Dean barely registered the sight of Caroline, iron poker in hand, facing the spirit.

"Don't just stand there, hit him with it," Dean shouted the order as he raced back to Sam and gathered another armload. As he dropped beside the fireplace once more he tossed every book in his hands into the fire. The blaze was fierce now and copious amounts of smoke were beginning to fill the room.

Dean didn't care, what was a little smoke inhalation when compared to being carved to ribbons by a nineteenth century ghost. As he darted back to Sam's side, he was surprised to see Beth right there with him gathering up as many books as she could carry. Side by side, they raced back to the fireplace, both of them choking a bit from the smoke.

"The flue's closed," Beth said as she grabbed an iron handle that rested near the top of the fireplace opening and pulled. In a moment, the air began to clear as the smoke was drawn up the flue.

Dean darted back toward the bookcase not even bothering to look for the ghost, his only chance at helping Caroline was to destroy the correct book. Anything more was just a stopgap measure and not even a very good one. As he reached the bookcase again, he breathed a sigh of relief to see Sam stagger to his feet.

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Caroline had never been so scared. Scared and pissed she amended. As she stood, her niece tucked securely behind her and watched the spirit approach them, her feelings of anger grew. This thing that now stalked her had destroyed her family. It had taken from her nearly everything she'd ever loved. Nearly everything, Caroline reached back and gripped Beth's hand.

As the young man approached, she found it almost hard to focus on him. He kept flickering in the light from the fire and he moved in a decidedly jerky motion. Stopping and starting he came at her much faster than she could have imagined.

"Caroline, the poker, you can stop him."

Caroline wanted to turn to Dean and demand an explanation from him. At the very least, she wanted to ask how he knew just what would stop a ghost. Unfortunately, there was no chance for that. She was simply too scared to focus on anything other than the spirit. It wasn't until she felt the cold handle of the iron fireplace poker nudge her hand that she realized Beth had shifted from behind her.

Pushing her niece back behind her, she glanced down at the tool in her hand. Not sure what she was supposed to do with it, she held on to it nevertheless. As Dean raced to the fireplace carrying even more books, he yelled out.

"Don't just stand there, hit him with it."

As the room began to fill with smoke, Caroline realized the spirit of the young man was only four feet away. Not sure what to do she pulled back the poker and took a batter's stance. Her mind screamed run, even as she firmed her stance and gripped the cold iron. Afraid her courage would fail her, Caroline suddenly stepped forward and swung the tool as hard as she could. Pain flared in her arm as she came in contact with him. She hadn't expected him to have substance and the blow nearly made her drop her weapon.

As the poker made contact with the spirit, it screamed in pain and seemed to explode outward in a black fog. As the fog dissipated, Caroline found she could no longer see the young man. Taking what felt like her first breath in the last twenty minutes she turned to face Beth and saw that she was gone.

At first panic clenched her throat, it was only when she noticed her niece darting toward the bookcase that her fear eased. As she let the poker drop to the ground, she moved toward the others intending to help. In the time it had taken for her to kill the spirit, Sam had gained his feet and was unsteadily trying to help.

Unfortunately, the young boy had knocked into the worst possible piece of furniture in their house. The bookshelf he banged into carried her brother's personal collection of antique books. Every book that had fallen to the floor, and there had to be over fifty, looked similar. They were all hardbound in muted colors of rich dark red, deep blue and even a few slim dark green volumes. Basically they were a match for the volumes that Sam had been carrying.

"Guys, stop for a minute. The spirit's gone we can take a minute to find the books we need, there's no need to-"

Caroline never got to finish her sentence. As she moved toward the kids, intent on stopping them from their book burning, something grabbed her from behind. She was pulled off balance and hit the ground with a whoosh of breath. Then something gripped her arm, drug her across the hard wood floor, and back down the hallway toward the bedrooms.

With her good arm stretched up and over her head, her fingers going numb from the pressure on her wrist, Caroline struggled to stop her momentum. Unfortunately, she was moving too fast to get a grip on the floor and she wasn't able to counter the strength of her attacker. Tipping her head back in panic, she expected to see the young man. Instead, nothing was there. She could feel the grip in her wrist as solid as anything she'd felt before but she was unable to see who was holding her.

A scream built in her throat as she was roughly drug around the corner and into her bedroom. A last ditch effort had her grabbing the doorframe, but her hand slipped as she was unmercifully drug into the room. Once clear of the door, her arm was dropped and the door slammed shut.

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Dean had been in the process of grabbing another armload of books when Caroline was taken. Unable to see the spirit, he dashed for his shotgun, cursing himself for putting it down and turned to see Caroline being drug into her bedroom.

"Burn those books," he shouted to Sam and Beth as he sprinted to the hall, shotgun in hand. Though, he was sure of what he'd find, he reached out and tried to open the door. Of course it was locked, the handle refused to turn at all. Taking a step back, he found himself suddenly wishing for his Dad. If he couldn't get into the room, Caroline would be dead, and there'd be no one to blame but himself.

Drawing a deep breath, he steeled his determination and drew back his boot. He found himself suddenly thankful for his father's insistence on wearing boots rather than sneakers as he kicked out. The blow was solid, the force of it jarring even his teeth. Unfortunately, it wasn't hard enough to force open the door.

Caroline's scream from the other side of the wood, ripped away what little control Dean had left. Without thought, he backed up a step and hit the door at a run, putting his shoulder to the wood. Again, and again he rammed the door, his mind blank to everything but Caroline's frightened cries.

It was the pain of his collarbone snapping that finally stopped his mindless action. With a groan, he sagged to his knees, his mind still screaming at him to continue even as his body refused to listen. As he hit the floor, his knee came down on the forgotten shotgun. An idea quickly formed, he could shoot out the handle of the door and hope that it would then open. The problem was if Caroline was on the opposite side of the door, and from her cries he knew she had to be close, then he risked hitting her with the shot.

Another cry from the room stopped any further debate. Better she was hit with a spray of shot then to be carved up with a knife. Gaining his feet, he grimaced in pain as every movement caused him agony. He drew a deep breath and shouted, "Caroline, stay away from the door." Then he fired.

It took both barrels before he figured he had done enough damage. He quickly reloaded doing his best not to use his left hand and then raised his leg once more. With a swift kick, he hit the door, a bolt of satisfaction pouring through him as it gave a bit. Another blow and the door swung wide.

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As the door banged shut, Caroline's heart nearly stopped. One minute she was alone and the next the spirit of the young man was hovering over her, a knife gripped in his right hand. She let out a scream and threw her hands up to defend herself.

As she lay, staring up at death itself, she heard something hit the door with a resounding thud. The spirit, distracted by the sound, turned his head for a moment. Without thought, Caroline rolled out from under the young man and scrabbled her way toward the far side of the bed. Trapped in a room with no other exit she knew she could only avoid him for so long.

Her only hope lay in the now constant banging that was coming from the other side of her bedroom door. It was Dean she was sure. Now that she'd seen the boy in action she found herself wondering why she'd ever thought he was a normal teenager. It was obvious there was nothing normal about Dean Winchester.

Standing on one side of the bed, with the spirit on the other, Caroline tore her focus from the door. The ghost was no longer concentrating on the door. He was staring at her, the knife in his hand held loosely at his side.

"You can't keep me from her. We belong together and nothing you do can separate us."

The man continued to advance his words tumbling over themselves. "She promised me, she promised me if I did this we'd be together."

His words were so sincere Caroline actually thought he was referring to Beth for a moment. She had to remind herself that the man, from the look of his clothes, had to have been dead for nearly a century.

"You're the only thing standing in the way of our future."

The man's hand tightened on the knife as he flickered a bit. One minute he was across from her and the next, he was standing before her, his hand reaching out to grab her by the throat with an iron grip.

The muted sound of Dean calling out to her was quickly followed by a blast from his gun. Caroline couldn't respond as the hand tightened on her throat and she felt herself being slowly lifted from the ground. Her vision began to fog, as she scrambled to try and get her feet back under her. As the pressure increased, she found herself incapable of doing anything.

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Without thought, Dean was through the door bringing the shotgun up and taking aim on the spirit that stood holding Caroline by the throat. Afraid of hitting the older woman, Dean aimed to the left of the spirit hoping to clip him with enough force to make him let go. The shot went wide, but apparently, the ghost took it as a threat. Releasing Caroline, he was in front of Dean in the blink of an eye.

Dean felt his feet leave the ground as he was thrown back. The shotgun slipped through his fingers when he hit the wall and fell with a clatter to the ground. Aware that he was now weaponless, Dean lunged for his shotgun. He never stood a chance as the spirit thrust the knife into his side.

Though the blow wasn't deep, Dean couldn't stop from moaning in pain. As he dropped to the ground, he pushed himself to grab for the gun. He never made it. The young man dropped to the floor beside him, one knee on Dean's chest and raised his knife once more.

Dean lay there immobilized by the weight on his chest and waited for the knife to plunge into his chest. In fact, so certain was he that it was inevitable, he barely noticed when the spirit's weight eased from his chest and the man's snarl became more of a moan. It was only as the hand that held the knife, only inches from Dean's chest, ignited that he allowed himself to hope.

His gaze pinned to the fire that was now steadily eating it's way up the spirit's chest, Dean pulled himself out from under the young man. He couldn't help but cry out in pain, as his movements pulled at the wound in his side. Pushing himself along the floor, he refused to give into the pain until he reached Caroline's side. It was only once he could make out the steady rise and fall of her chest that he dropped his head to the ground and gave into the darkness that was calling out to him.


	17. Chapter 17

"Beth, it's over. Stop, Beth, it's over," Sam said as he reached out and gripped Beth's hand forcing her to stop. He'd realized it as soon as he'd tossed the last book in the fireplace. That book, unlike the others, had seemed to burn hotter, the flames licking up the cover were blue rather than the red. As soon as the fire had charred more than three-quarters of the book, the heavy oppression that had filled the room lifted, leaving Sam feeling almost lighthearted.

"Over?" Beth questioned in confusion.

Sam wasn't surprised by Beth's response. The girl had been working in a trance ever since she'd watched her aunt getting drug down the hallway. Sam couldn't say that he blamed her. The sight of his brother in hot pursuit would feature in his own nightmares for a long time to come, of that he was certain.

The only thing that had stopped Beth from running after the two had been Sam's tackle. He'd hit the girl low and hard just like Dean had taught him. The force of the hit had sent them both sprawling across the living room floor. It had worked though, he'd managed to make Beth understand that the only way she could help would be to find the book.

"Come on," Sam said, grabbing the older girl by the arm. He was worried about Beth's slow response but he didn't have the time to coax her around. The urge to find his brother was quickly replacing all other thoughts in his head. Down the hall Sam went, still gripping Beth's arm. It was only as he reached the bedroom door that he paused.

He suddenly realized he was terrified. Terrified that they hadn't been on time, terrified of what they would find when he pushed open the door. The low moan he heard from the other side of the door got him moving again. At first sight, Sam couldn't see anyone. In fact, the only sign that his brother or Caroline had even entered the room was the broken door and the smear of blood that ran from in front of the closet to the far side of the bed.

Sam walked forward cautiously, his heart hammering so hard he felt sure he was going to be the first eleven year old to have a heart attack. As he moved across the room he began picking up his speed. He was suddenly certain that his brother was still alive but would bleed out before he could reach him.

Sam came to a complete stop as he rounded the bed. There Caroline sat, hunched over the older boy a wad of bedding held against Dean's side. Sam dropped to his knees beside Dean and insinuated himself between his brother and Caroline. Brushing her hands out of the way, he took over keeping the pressure on Dean's side.

"He said to put pressure on it," Caroline rasped as she got shakily to her feet. "I'm gonna call 911."

"No," Sam without hesitation.

He could feel both Caroline and Beth watching him as he pressed harder on Dean's wound. "You can't. They won't understand this. They'll take Dean and me away."

Caroline reached out and touched Beth's shoulder before turning to face Sam, the phone in her hand. "Sam, your brother needs help."

Suddenly, Sam couldn't stand the tone of her voice. She was speaking to him as if he didn't understand. As if he was too young to really grasp just how grave the situation was. That was a load of crap, his hands were becoming soaked with his brother's blood. If anyone understood the situation, it was Sam. For that one moment, he found himself wishing for his father. He wanted, no needed, John to come swooping in, all growls, and barking orders. He needed to stop Caroline and he needed to do it before she called the cops.

"They'll take Beth from you," Sam spat out barely even considering his words.

Caroline dropped the phone. "What?" she asked the blood draining from her face causing the dark red fingerprints that encircled her throat to become more vivid.

"They won't believe anything you say, and they'll take Beth. They'll find you unfit to raise her," Sam's voice cracked a bit as he bent back over his brother.

"What are we supposed to do then? I mean we can't just let Dean die on my bedroom floor."

Sam was fairly certain that Caroline was nearing hysteria. Apparently, the day's events were beginning to overwhelm her. Sam really couldn't blame her, after all, he was beginning to panic and this was really nothing new to him. "We'll call my father."

"Your father?" Beth questioned, as she pulled her hand from her Aunt's grasp and knelt at Sam's side.

Sam nodded, not bothering to look up. "Yeah my Dad can fix Dean," Sam put as much conviction as he could into his words. His father could fix Dean, of that he had no doubt. The only trouble was Sam was unsure if he could get here on time.

Just then, the doorbell rang. Sam panicked as he considered the copious amounts of smoke that Caroline's fireplace was probably still sending up, not to mention the shotgun blasts. A glance at Caroline showed that the woman would never pass muster. Beth on the other hand still looked okay, a bit smutty, but okay.

"Beth, go see who's at the door. If it's the fire department, explain away the fireplace and send them on their way. If it's the police, don't open the door. Tell them that you'll get your Aunt and get back in here."

Caroline and Beth both studied Sam in silent surprise as the young boy rattled off the surprisingly well thought out plans. Turning to her aunt, Beth shrugged and headed for the bedroom door.

"Caroline, if it is the police I need to get Dean out of here," Sam knew he had only one chance to convince the older woman to let them leave.

"Sam, you can't leave. Dean's unconscious, he's bleeding, he needs help. Now, I don't want to put you boys or Beth at risk but I really don't see that we have a choice."

"'m fine," Dean whispered, as his eyelids fluttered. Finally, he seemed to give up the struggle and he let them close. His hand however, came down on top of Sam's and he asked, "You okay?"

Sam couldn't help the tears that slipped down his cheeks as he nodded. "Yeah I'm okay."

"Help me up, we gotta get before the cops show," Dean said, as he struggled to lift his head.

Sam placed his hand on Dean's chest and pushed his brother flat, eliciting a gasp of pain from the older boy. Unsure of what was wrong, Sam removed his hand and settled for gripping Dean's arm. "Stop, we're not even sure the cops are coming."

"You shot up the neighborhood, Sammy. Of course they're on their way."

Sam cried out at the deep voice that sounded from the doorway. Up on his feet in a flash, he flew across the floor and landed safely in the strong arms of his father. At first, he was unable to say anything, he just stood there and hugged his dad, relief surging through him.

"Sammy, you gotta let go, kid. I need to see to Dean," John's gruff voice was a balm to Sam's soul.

Releasing his father, he stepped back and wiped his sleeve across his face. "Yes, sir."

888

John frowned at his youngest as he swiped ineffectually at the blood, tears, and snot that masked the kid's face. Reaching out once again, he pulled Sam toward him. This time his embrace wasn't a hug so much as a headlock. John held Sam's head still and ruffled his fingers through the boy's hair. He didn't stop until Sam cried out in pain.

"Looks like you got banged up as well, Sammy," John said, as he probed the cut that he had found near Sam's temple.

Sam struggled to pull away and said, "I'm okay. Dean's not."

John knew his oldest wasn't 'okay', and only his need to ensure that Sam was safe was stopping him from blazing a path to his son. "I know, Sam."

John released his son and began to bark orders, taking comfort from the tasks at hand. He knew from experience that the more he could treat this like a job the easier it would be. Emotions wouldn't keep his boys safe, they would only get in his way. "Sam the car's about a block south, get the first aid kit and get back here now."

Sam darted away without a word. John could hear his footsteps as he pounded down the hall. Once the boy was out of the room, John dropped to his knees beside his oldest and reached out a hand to touch his forehead. Dean's eyes fluttered open and John found himself looking down into his wife's bright green gaze. "Damn, kid, what the hell happened?"

A ghost of a smile lit Dean's face as his eyes sagged shut again. "Would you buy that we stole some liquor and had a party?"

"If that's true then where's the band and the keg," John quipped, glad that Dean still had the energy to mouth off. Carefully, John reached out and pulled back the sheet that was pressed against his son's side.

Dean's hiss of breath told John that the sheet was probably stuck to the wound. "I need warm water and a wash cloth."

John didn't address anyone specifically, he just assumed one of the woman that stood behind him would obey. When neither one moved, he barked, "Now."

John heard the younger woman jump as she let out a squeak. She got moving though, in fact she practically ran from the room. Ignoring the older woman, John began to assess the damage that had been done to his son. Other than numerous bruises, the only other injury he found was what appeared to be a broken collarbone.

"Who are you?"

John let out a low growl and turned to face the woman that addressed him. With his hand resting lightly on Dean's chest he in turn asked, "Who the hell are you? And what the hell happened to my kids?"

"Your kids? You're John Winchester?"

John turned from the woman, already dismissing her as a flake and muttered, "You were expecting someone else?"

"Actually, I was, after all, near as I can tell you're never around."

John barely registered Dean's hiss of anger, he turned and stood before the younger woman in the blink of an eye. "I'm never there," he demanded. "Lady, you wanna compare notes on parenting, cause near as I can tell my son nearly died to help you."

"I didn't, I mean we never asked…" the woman's voice trailed off when faced with John's glare.

John snorted and dropped back to Dean's side. "Didn't ask. Oh, I have no doubt you didn't ask for help. In fact you probably did your damndest to stop the boys from helping you."

"Dad?" Dean asked, his voice laced with pain.

"Sam's coming, Dean. Just hang in there. He's fine." John had no doubt that Dean was mentally counting off the seconds until Sam returned.

Just then, the young girl returned, a bowl of water in her hand, and a washcloth over her shoulder. As she dropped down next to him, he noted the look of concern on her face. "You must be, Beth," he said as he began to cut the clothes away from the gash in Dean's side.

At last, the only thing left was the blood-soaked sheet that had been used to apply pressure to the wound. The good news was the wound had stopped bleeding, the bad news was the once white sheet was stuck to the injury and John needed to work it free. Not wanting to re-start the bleeding, he took the washcloth from the young girl and wet it thoroughly. As he began to wet the sheet, he spoke to the girl in hopes of learning what had happened.

"You wanna tell me what's going on?"

The girl turned even paler if that was possible at the sight of the now red cloth John held in his hands and swallowed hard. "Um, there was a—" Her next words were cut off as Sam dashed back into the room, a duffle in his hands.

"Here, Dad, and no cops yet."

"Good work, Son. I'm gonna need a hand here." John held out a hand and accepted the bag. He began to gather the supplies he'd need. One look at his youngest and John found himself wishing he could send the boy away. As much as Sam could use the experience and John could use the help, Sam was too close to his brother to deal clinically with him.

Ready at last to remove the caked-on sheet, John looked up at Sam and frowned. "If you can't handle this then you need to tell me know, Sam."

Sam swallowed audibly and reassured his father, "I'm okay, sir. I can help."

John nodded and gently began to pull the sheet. When necessary he used the warm water to help loosen the stuck material. He knew first hand just how bad he was probably hurting his oldest and he wished Dean would give in and pass out. Though, the others were probably attributing Dean's closed eyes to the fact that he was out, John could tell by his son's every flinch that the boy was faking it.

At last, the sheet was free and John exposed the wound for the first time. A thorough examination showed that the injury wasn't as dire as the blood had led him to believe. Dean had been stabbed on the right side of his belly about an inch above his hipbone. Though the wound was jagged, things could have been much worse. John released a breath he hadn't even realized he'd been holding and began to clean the wound.

Ignoring Dean's occasional flinch, he questioned his youngest while he worked. He knew as he began to drag the truth out of Sam, that Dean was probably cursing a blue streak behind his clenched teeth. After all, Dean had two options, open his eyes and answer John's questions, allowing the strangers in the room a glimpse of his pain, or he could allow Sam to blurt out the truth. Even though it would never happen, John would have liked to see his son's bright green eyes sparkle as he wove his tail of bullshit. After this was all over and both boys had been properly punished, John had to remember to listen to Dean's version, it was bound to be good for a smile.

"So then we knew it was a spirit. Dean came up with a plan and here we are," Sam finished his hand reaching out to clench Dean's shirt.

"Dean came up with a plan, why am I not surprised. And why exactly didn't you wait for me, or oh, I don't know, call me for help?" John asked. He knew he was growling, but he couldn't help but remember the fear that clenched his heart when he had walked into the apartment and found his boys and a large part of his weapons gone. It had been sheer luck that he'd decided to check this house first.

"We didn't want to bother you," Sam said both hands now gripping Dean like a lifeline.

"You mean your brother didn't want to bother me. Damn kid thinks he's all grown up."

888

Sam ducked his head careful not show just how hurt he was by his father's words. Dean had suggested that they contact John, but Sam had deterred him by reminding his brother that their father was most likely days away and wouldn't be able to get back in time. The truth was, Sam hadn't wanted Dean to call on John only to have his father tell them to stay out of it. Dean was always willing to break the unspoken rules. In fact, he did it with glee, but Sam knew that if John said outright not to hunt the ghost his brother would obey.

So Sam had made sure John was never consulted. Now, here they were with Dean bleeding all over Caroline's rug and Sam regretting that he'd manipulated his brother. As John began stitching up the jagged edges of the wound Sam leaned in close and called softly to his brother, "Dean." The older boy's pale face and closed eyes had Sam fearing the worst. He needed his brother to answer him more than he'd ever needed anything.

"Please, Dean," Sam pleaded, his voice cracking as tears began to run down his cheeks. Despite his father's assurances, he couldn't shake the sudden feeling that Dean was worse than John let on.

Dean's softly spoken, "Sammy," nearly broke Sam's heart.

"You okay?" Sam asked as he watched his brother struggle to open his eyes.

"'m fine, Sam. You okay, you got knocked down?"

Dean's voice was hoarse with pain and unshed tears. Sam knowing his brother wouldn't want Beth and Caroline to see how bad off he was shifted so he blocked their view. The two woman had been surprisingly quiet through the whole ordeal. Sam could only imagine they were still playing catch up.

"I'm fine, just bumped my head," Sam answered his brother. "Dad already checked me out," Sam reassured his brother anticipating his next words.

"Good, I'm gonna close my eyes now, kid, but I'm okay. It barely hurts."

Sam sniffed at his brother's blatant lie and said, "K, Dean."

Sam spared a glance toward where his father was finishing the last of the stitches and blanched at the jagged wound that graced his brother's side. That was one scar that wasn't going anywhere.

"Sam,"

Sam turned his attention toward his brother and waited for him to continue.

"Did you have to tell him everything?"

Dean's faint smile was enough to ease the pressure in Sam's chest. "At least I didn't mention cutting school."

The groan that rose from his brother was the first that had escaped him all night. Sam couldn't help but wince as he turned and met his father's livid stare.

"You two knuckleheads did what?" John's voice was only slightly less than a roar.

"We didn't have any choice, Dad," Sam said stumbling over his words in his haste to get them said.

"Clean up, we've got to go." John's tone made it clear the subject wasn't dropped only shelved for the moment.

"Wait, what do you mean you have to go. You can't move him, for God's sake," Caroline said.

Caroline and Beth had been so quiet that Sam had almost forgotten they were there. Now as Caro questioned John's orders he couldn't help but wince in sympathy. The older woman was about to get the lesson of a lifetime.

"Sam, I gave you an order," John barked. Gaining his feet in one swift motion, he then stood and faced Caroline with murder in his eyes. "I don't know why you think you have the right to interfere but you'd better back off now. That is my son and I'll decide what's best for him."

If anything, Caroline's gaze flared hotter as she took a step forward and snapped right back, "What gives me the right is that I care about him, and I for one don't want him to die."

Sam, bag packed and ready to go, settled himself at his brother's side and watched the exchange with wide eyes. No one ever stood up to John, the only one that even came close was John's good friend Bobby Singer and even he had learned long ago that direct confrontation never worked.

"Are you insinuating that I'd put my boy at risk?"

"Are you kidding me, he came here with a loaded weapon and shot a ghost. I'm not insinuating anything, I'm saying it right out."

"How dare you talk about my son as if you know anything about him or our lives," John said using his index finger to jab the air between him and Caroline.

Sam looked down to see his brother's eyes moving back and forth as he watched the exchange.

Caroline actually took a step forward, her toes now nearly touching John's boots and folded her arms across her chest. "Don't you snap at me, Dean showed up at the door tonight with bruises. How about you tell me how he got those?"

Sam winced as John turned on a dime and dropped to the ground beside Dean. Reaching out with one hand, he carefully turned Dean's face so he could better see the split lip and the shiner Dean was sporting. With a growl, he stood up once more and turned to face Caro. "We're leaving, you can call the cops on me if you want, but you really don't need to bother. We'll be out of town in an hour."

All the fight seemed to sag out of Caroline at John's words. "Wait, please, I'm sorry."

At John's incredulous look, she held up her hand and said, "Really I am sorry. I know you don't abuse your boys. It's just that tonight's been…" Caroline's words trailed off before she finally added, "weird."

Sam heard Dean snort at the word weird. Then the next thing he knew, Dean was clutching him, using his grasp on Sam to pull himself up. Sam moved to support Dean, at last getting him on his feet. The older boy swayed a bit, but stayed upright a slight smile on his face. "Come on, Sammy, let's go," he said as he gingerly moved toward the door.

"Listen, why don't you let the boys stay here, if you're so determined to leave you can go gather everything up and then come back for them. At least that way they'd get a few hours sleep."

Sam could see that Caroline was trying to offer an olive branch but he was sure his father would be too suspicious to take it.

"No, Caro, we have to go," Dean said his voice sounding surprisingly strong.

Sam watched as Beth and Dean traded glances, at last, Dean tugged on Sam's shoulder and said, "Come on, kiddo. Help me outside."

"Take care of yourselves boys, and thank you," Caroline said, her tone suggesting she meant the words for John as much as for the boys.

It wasn't until he followed his father out the door that John's words really sank in. Though, Sam had told himself it would come to this, now that he was faced with leaving Fall River he couldn't help the tears that flooded his eyes. It was the heavy weight of his brother's hand that helped hold back the flow. They had saved Caroline's life and had given Beth back her sanity, if the only penalty for that was having to leave the town they'd found happiness in, then so be it. After all, if there was one thing Sam had learned it was that nothing was forever.

888

It took everything Beth had to hold back the tears that threatened to fall. The entire night was a blur of confusion and horror interspersed with true terror. From the moment that the spirit had showed itself to the moment when Sam had assured her it was gone Beth had been moving on autopilot. Now that clarity had returned, she found she was incapable of sorting through all the emotions that were coursing through her.

In fact, at the moment the only thought she could truly understand was that Dean was leaving. They were in the process of packing now and most likely by morning they would be long gone. The boy that had saved her in everyway it was possible to save someone was leaving. Beth blinked back the tears.

If there was one thing the young girl had learned since all this had begun it was that control was an illusion. An illusion that Beth didn't have time for. Dean would leave regardless of what she said or did. Beth had no control over it, and from the few minutes she'd spent in Mr. Winchester's presence she was sure that Dean had even less. So that left her only a couple hours to make sure that Dean realized just what he'd done for her.

As she stood in bathroom, the hot flow of the shower cascading down her aching limbs she felt a lightening in her soul. She wasn't sure if it was physical or mental but she actually felt better than she had in a long time. At last, she was free. Free from her past and free to live her future. Despite the fact that no one would ever stand trial for her parent's murder she could finally let go of all her anger. Finally, she could remember her mother's smile or her father's deep voice and take joy from the memories rather than wallow in despair.

As Beth shut off the water, she took a deep breath and began to plan just what she would say to him. Thank you would never be enough but it was the most she had to offer, and god knew it would be heartfelt. She only hoped they hadn't left yet.

Finally, Beth squeaky clean and dressed in an old pair of sweats, she quickly combed through her hair. She felt as if a clock was ticking counting down the seconds until he was out of her life forever and she was determined to get to him in time. She was also a bit scared. Maybe it was the fact that she now realized she'd never really knew him that made her fret. It made her feel childish to think she had been so sure that she was the most important thing in his life. It was obvious to her, now that she'd gotten a glimmer of what his life must be like, that he was far beyond her in many ways.

Ready as she'd ever be, Beth left the warm, moist air of the bathroom and headed toward the living room. Though, it was nearing four thirty in the morning she felt wide awake. She figured she was still running her adrenaline high and would most likely crash soon, until then though she intended to enjoy her last sleepless night.

888

Dean reclined on his bed, the pain in his side and his shoulder had been reduced to a dull throb by the pain relievers John had given him. His father had left him here with instructions not to move. John had still been growling about 'dumb kids' and 'stubborn woman' so Dean had complied. He knew when to push his Dad and when to fall back. Right now retreat was his best option. While he lay, Sammy and John were packing up the apartment both taking their time and ensuring nothing was left behind. Dean figured at some point one of them would be back to get him before they left.

Though he was exhausted, he found he wasn't able to sleep, his mind was racing with too many thoughts for him to relax. First and foremost was Beth. He hadn't gotten the chance to say goodbye to her and he couldn't imagine what she must be thinking, about him, his family and most of all what had happened tonight.

His thoughts came to a sudden and complete halt when he heard Sam's high-pitched voice greet someone. It was nearly five in the morning so he was surprised to say the least when Beth walked into his bedroom. Followed by Sam, the young girl walked a straight line to him and dropped down on the end of the bed. Her long hair was wet and her sweats looked as if they'd seen better days, but Dean didn't think she'd ever looked better. She glowed. There was no other word to describe her. He couldn't help but think that this is what she must have looked like before her parents died. Despite the circles under her eyes she looked happy, the shadows that had been so much part of her gaze were gone. She even stood straighter, as if the weight of the world had been lifted off her narrow shoulders.

It was in that moment that Dean understood just what it meant to be a hunter. He had done this. He'd given this girl her life back. Suddenly, he found it didn't matter what she thought of him or his family. Hell, it didn't matter that tomorrow he'd be back in the Impala heading for the next nameless town. All that mattered was he had the power to help people, to make their lives better, to keep them safe. What more could anyone ask for, his own family might be broken but that didn't mean anyone else's had to be.

"How are you feeling, Dean?" Beth asked as she made herself comfortable.

Dean smiled, every last bit of tension leaving his body. "Not bad, a little sore."

"A little sore," Beth snorted, as she broke into another bright smile. "I'd think you were a little sore since you took on a ghost single handedly"

Dean noticed the slight tremor in her voice at the word ghost, and he found he really couldn't blame her. He'd been aware of the supernatural nearly all his life and sometimes he still had trouble dealing with it. "Well, not single-handed. You and Sammy did pretty good getting that book burned."

Beth's eyes widened slightly as she nodded. "I still can't believe it was a haunted book. Does this kind of, uh, thing happen a lot to you guys?"

Sam's snort of laughter was answer enough. Dean shrugged and grinned, "It happens enough."

Just then, John appeared in the doorway. "We're ready to go, boys. Say your goodbyes." On that note, he turned and headed out the door.

Dean threw his legs over the side of the bed and eased his feet to the floor. He could honestly say that the knife wound wasn't nearly as painful as his shoulder. Despite the sling John had found, every movement caused Dean pain. This was the first time he'd ever broken anything other than his nose and he was seriously hoping it would be the last. At least for a while.

"Sam, give me a hand," Dean said as he moved to stand.

"Dean, I just wanted the chance to thank you. You and Sam, you guys you don't know what you've done for me." Beth's large expressive eyes filled with tears.

Dean shrugged in embarrassment and took a step away from Sam. As Beth stood, he wrapped his good arm around her and held on tight. He barely managed to stifle the cry when she enthusiastically hugged him back. Dean figured it was worth the pain though to feel her in his arms once more.

"Take care of yourself and your Aunt. Everything's going to be fine now, Beth."

"Thank you, Dean. I won't ever forget you," Beth whispered as she pressed her lips to his.

Lost in Beth's embrace, Dean pulled back suddenly when he heard his Dad yell, "Dude, stow the hormones and get a move on."

With a laugh, he leaned toward Beth once more and dropped a kiss on her now bright red cheek. "Bye." Carefully, Dean turned and made his way around Beth. Calling out to his brother, "Come on, Sam."

Dean turned at the door expecting to see Sam right behind him. Instead, his little brother was having the stuffing hugged out of him by Beth. With a smirk, Dean watched as Beth pulled away at last and planted a noisy kiss on Sam's cheek.

As Beth walked past Dean, she reached out and gently squeezed his hand. The smile she sent him was bright enough to light up the night. Then she was gone. Out of the bedroom and through the living room she never paused as she descended the steps outside. Dean sighed as he watched her walk out of his life.

_"_Come on, Romeo. No point in pissing Dad off anymore than we have to." Dean turned to hobble carefully out of his room, his grin broadening as he heard Sam trip over his own feet in his haste to follow.

_888_

An hour later found Dean settled into the front seat of the Impala. Sam had graciously given over both his pillow and his blanket and Dean was finding it difficult to stay awake. As he began to drift off, the faint sound of the engine a lullaby in his ears, he realized that at this moment, he felt more at home than he ever had in the tiny apartment in Fall River. With a last glance at his family, Dean settled more deeply on the black leather seat and sighed in contentment.

_The end._

**Chapter End Notes:**

Well guys a big thanks to all of you that stuck around till the end and an especially big thank you to those of you that took the time to review. It's always so cool to hear your thoughts about my stories. Hope you enjoyed Fall River and as always, Thanks for reading - Kel


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